Featherlight Taction
by CBas
Summary: The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one's own true face. Quite literally. VoldemortHarry. SLASH. HBP compliant.
1. Dreams

**Full Summary:** The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one's own true face; quite literally. When Harry's connection to Voldemort through his scar becomes even more powerful, he begins to have dreams of a man he does not recognize, yet these dreams still bring upon the pain of Lord Voldemort. In his search for the remaining horcruxes, Harry has an accident that will alter his life forever; because now when the Dark Lord touches him, Tom Riddle surfaces on his skin.

**Explanations:** Okay, so pretty much, to spoil a bit, but not too much, whenever Harry and Voldemort touch skin to skin, Voldemort no longer looks like the snake-like being of the 4th and 5th movies, but Tom Riddle, a normal man. THIS TOM RIDDLE IS NOT THE ONE FROM THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS. He looks like Ralph Fiennes, adult Voldemort's actor.

No, this won't be right away slash, but IT IS SLASH between Voldemort and Harry, so if you don't like that, leave.

I got the inspiration for this randomly after seeing the Order of the Phoenix, and yes, this story is Half Blood Prince compliant. Harry WILL be searching for the horcruxes and it won't just be about him and Moldy Voldie.

And if you think that Harry and Voldemort together is an impossible task to actually accomplish with both of them in complete character and almost complete canon (lol), then think again. I may butcher Rowling's heterosexual wizarding population, but these characters will not be OOC, and if they are I trust you to tell me. I can't stand OOC Voldemort.

Okays! Off to the story!

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_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_

_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight_

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything seems like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know your alive_

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am _

_I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am_

_-Goo Goo Dolls – Iris_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 1- Dreams

Another restless night of sleep. Another myriad of haunting faces and echoing screams. Harry's mental connection with Voldemort was one he never got used to, but it was at least something he'd come to accept over the years. At 17, he'd had endless nights harassed with visions of torture and death. Those nights he would wake up screaming, or sometimes even talking as if he were the serpentine monster who ruled his sleep. Other nights, as time wore on, Harry found himself involuntarily traipsing into less violent arenas of the Dark Lord's psyche. Oftentimes now, Harry would watch through the man's eyes merely as he sat in his chair or had simple conversations.

Regardless of the simplicity of some of these mental intrusions, Harry still loathed every bit of the contact. His scar would burn maliciously against his skull as he awoke, and he found himself wondering how Voldemort could be so careless as to allow Harry to intrude upon his world every night. Surely the villain didn't want him to observe every action the merciless Lord took during the hours of darkness.

And it was no exaggeration to say "every". Harry cringed at memories that passed behind his eyelids and he sat up in bed. Harry had wondered offhandedly once if the reptilian body Voldemort possessed was completely human. Hell, he was missing a nose, so who knew what else he'd been deprived of. However, much to Harry's discomfort, he'd seen on numerous occasions that a nose was the only thing that Tom Riddle did not possess; and sickeningly, those visions were just as violent as his muggle torture sessions.

Harry shook off the thoughts of his visions and rose from his bed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Slowly dragging his weary feet towards the bathroom, he couldn't help but give an embarrassing start as Kreacher, the house elf of the most "noble house of Black", let out a sharp cough at Harry's appearance in the hall.

"Filthy half-blood, tarnishing Mistress' floors," the elf gritted out from his jagged teeth before he spoke more loudly. "Potter, Master, walks in the house."

"Thanks for the narration, Kreacher," Harry retorted tiredly.

Kreacher simply twitched his obtuse head and continued his polishing of the banister. Harry rolled his eyes. He had no clue as to why Kreacher, a house elf who would rather die than clean anything other than Sirius' mother's portrait, was polishing something, but he decided to let it pass. At least an inch of the house would be cleaner.

He continued about his morning ritual; washing up, joining Ron and Hermione for breakfast, and dressing for the day's research.

Ever since they'd started searching for the horcruxes, Harry had found his nose buried in more books than adventures. Hermione had admonished him to fully read up on horcruxes before pursuing them. At first, he'd been utterly devoid of all desire to study--seeing as he'd already left school—so he set off against the witch's protests and recklessly sought the first horcrux.

However, the mission did not end out as intended. Instead of gloriously crushing the artifact and a shred of Voldemort's soul along with it, Harry had been laid up in Saint Mungo's for a week as numerous medi-witches and wizards tried valiantly to remove the humongous, unidentifiable blobs that had sprouted from Harry's skin as soon as he'd touched the horcrux. He still had small, freckled, white scars dancing over his pale flesh from that.

Needless to say, he decided to listen to Hermione's suggestion, not knowing that doing so would land him in the library of Grimmauld Place for ten hours a day. With the exception of visits from the surviving members of the order; such as Remus, Tonks, and Moody; Harry found himself caught in a daily schedule of monotonous eating, reading, and sleeping. Lately, sleeping had been the most eventful part of the day.

He'd tried to sleep as little as possible now, burying his nose in books that Hermione threw at him as an excuse not to close his eyes and see through Tom Riddle's once more. The dreams succeeded only in giving him worse cabin fever than he already had. In seeing the man he most wanted to kill, aside from Severus Snape, who was also quite high on his death-list, Harry only grew more angry and impatient to destroy the horcruxes and vanquish the most feared wizard on the planet.

Ron hadn't said much to Harry as of late, still processing the fact that they had not returned to Hogwarts that year. Though it was simple to Harry and Hermione that they no longer needed to attend Hogwarts—at least for the time being--, Ron had a much more difficult time accepting the change. Hogwarts had been a safe house of sorts, blocking off small sections of reality so that they could handle the uprising of dark times. Now that they were not there, the world's reality had hit them all full force, making them realize that life was not as simple as living anymore. No, they now had to really fight, or else death would jump at them from the nearest dark alleyway.

Ron had never been skilled at hiding his emotions, and this was no different. His façade had changed. He'd become much more quiet and reserved, speaking in a contemplative hush that was not characteristic of the usually energetic read-head. Though Hermione and Harry had been worried, they sympathized, knowing that their friend just didn't hide his fear as well as they did.

After all, fear ran their lives. They didn't admit it, but the air in the house, the streets, the world… it was all rank with fear. Now that Voldemort's return was fully believed by one and all, an unsettling chill had drifted over wizards and muggles alike. The adults that Harry had once regarded as mentors were either dead or had shifted into a position beside him, equal in their fear and anxiety.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't stopped training. They'd practiced spells diligently, but none of them could be so proud or naïve as to say that they had mastered any sort of magic. They were skilled, but not nearly as much as they should be. They were knowledgeable, but only from experience. They were brave, but to the point of idiocy in certain circumstances.

Harry, in one slight, pensive moment, had even considered Snape's opinions of him when he was a student. The man had been right about his dedication and intelligence. Harry really had been a fool. He'd come to be able to at least admit that much to himself as the cruel reality of his life set around him, but his venom for both Snape and his own faults would quickly drench any such admissions.

Harry sighed and flipped through another few pages of the worn book on the table in front of it.

"You've actually got to read the pages, Harry," Hermione chided as she observed Harry's mindless actions.

Harry grunted in response and glanced over at Ron, who was simply observing the small interaction silently as he ate a piece of bread. Harry looked back down at his book again and sighed, mentally this time. He'd been hoping for Ron to spark up and comment on Hermione's statement, saying something about how hard it was to concentrate on these bloody books. It was unnerving seeing Ron so passive, to the point of where it made Harry more nervous than he already was. He felt separated from his best friend, like Ron understood something he didn't, and Harry desperately wanted to know what he was missing.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and sat her book aside with a thump, a small smile etching its way into her strong features. "Well I suppose we have read quite a bit today," she said playfully. It was remarkable how she still had the ability to be playful. "So why don't we play a game of exploding snap or something? Fred and George left some things from their shop here, didn't they?"

Harry and Ron looked at her with mild surprise. It was rare these days to have Hermione, or any of them for that matter, suggest something fun or unproductive. They were always working with no time for rest or play.

So, naturally, the boys were more than ready to find the products the Weasley twins had left behind.

They didn't play for long. Just a few games of wizard's chess and gobstones. But it was enough just to smile for a few hours before they returned to the seriousness of their studies.

It was late into the night before Harry gave up his war with his heavy eyelids. His companions had already resigned themselves to their rooms, fast asleep and unafraid of visions to haunt their minds. The raven-haired wizard trudged his way to his room, lying down regretfully on his bed and succumbing to the seductive darkness that was sleep.

--

_A figure was leaning in the frame of a door. Harry strained his eyes to make them out. He tried to call to them, but the person did not seem to hear him. Slowly, he edged towards them, suddenly growing fearful and drawing his wand. _

_His emerald eyes narrowed as the face became clear. It was one he did not recognize. Yet, it had a familiar essence about it._

_It was a man, with high cheekbones and mesmerizing, dark eyes. He wasn't looking at Harry, as if the boy wasn't even in the room with him. His very short and gleaming hair was as dark as his eyes. He was by no means classic in looks, but a regal handsomeness emanated from him._

_He turned, and Harry woke up, his scar burning._

_--_

Harry poked at his eggs with his fork absentmindedly as he struggled to recall the face of the man from his dream the previous night. It was faded and Harry had lost the sense of familiarity with it since he had awoken. He remembered recognizing it, if only a little, while he was asleep, but now as he looked back at the dark eyes and solemn expression, he could no longer recognize anything about it.

The man was a complete stranger to him. But, if he'd never known him, how in the world could he see him so clearly in his dreams?

Harry shook his head. Apparently, it was a sudden movement, because it startled Ron into the point of knocking over his juice. His friend gazed at him inquisitively, as did Hermione, and Harry felt annoyed at himself for thinking too strongly. He knew they'd have questions now, and he hated talking about his dreams.

"I just had an odd dream last night," Harry said, sipping at the water in his glass.

"Another vision?" Hermione asked worriedly, knitting her eyebrows together in a maternal gesture.

Harry had the strange urge to chuckle. "No. I have those all the time. This was different."

"Different how?" Ron inquired softly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chairs.

"Well, it wasn't like a vision. It was more like a dream," Harry replied, trying to think of how to describe it. "There was a man. I didn't recognize him."

"A man?" Ron repeated, looking bemused, "Well that doesn't sound like anything much. Was he doing anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Nothing. He was just… standing there, looking into space."

"Well I don't know why your mind is all boggled over it, then," Hermione stated, easing up. "Sounds just like a normal dream. Maybe you were just recalling someone you'd seen on the street or something. It happens all the time."

"I don't know. He seemed familiar."

"I thought you didn't recognize him?" Hermione answered, picking up the three's dishes and heading for the sink.

"I don't now. It was just for a moment," Harry said, adjusting his glasses. "Something just seemed familiar about him, that's all. And I never have dreams. Do you think it might be someone Voldemort wanted me to see? Maybe this man's a death eater or something."

"Possibly," Hermione agreed, "But you shouldn't linger over it, Harry. Especially if You-Know… Voldemort wants you to. For now, it doesn't affect us. If you have the dream again, then we'll tell Lupin."

Harry nodded and stood, waving his hand through the air as if throwing the dream into the rubbish bin. "let's get to the library then," he murmured. "The sooner the better. We've got to get through these books or we'll read through the whole bloody war."

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**Terribly short chapter. Sorry about that. I was just introducing Harry and them again. Setting up, you know. The next chapters'll be longer.**

**But for now, I leave you with this intro of sorts.**

**Yay for Ralph Fiennes!  
**

**--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	2. Solitude

**A/N: If you can't tell, I'm putting songs that relate to the story at the beginning of every chapter. It's gonna be hard to find ones that remind me of the story later on, but for now it shouldn't be a problem. Read these songs because I want you to feel the mood of this fanfiction as you read along.**

**Anyways, enjoy! I'll try not to take too long between chapters.**

**NEW EDIT; SEPTEMBER 10, 2008: The song for this chapter has been changed. The original wasn't suitable for it and I've decided to make the songs fit the chapters as closely as I can, which means some other chapter songs will be changing too.**

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_Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all_

You're sick of feeling numb  
You're not the only one  
I'll take you by the hand  
And I'll show you a world that you can understand  
This life is filled with hurt  
When happiness doesn't work  
Trust me and take my hand  
When the lights go out you will understand

Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

Anger and agony  
Are better than misery  
Trust me I've got a plan  
When the lights go off you will understand

Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing  
Rather feel pain

I know (I know I know I know I know)  
That you're wounded  
You know (You know you know you know you know)  
That I'm here to save you  
You know (You know you know you know)  
I'm always here for you  
I know (I know I know I know I know)  
That you'll thank me later

Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Rather feel pain  


_-Three Days Grace - Pain_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 2- Solitude

The room was ridiculously dank. It was annoying≈sitting in the filthily moldy stone chamber for hours on end. It was one of the drawbacks of an underground manor. It was also the consequence of trusting imbecilic death eaters to find a suitable location to live in without being noticed by unwelcome witches and wizards.

Voldemort scowled at the flickering shadows on the stone wall. The torches were charmed not to make noise, for he hated the crackle of wood in such an empty space. It just added to the desolation of the place.

It was not as if the manor wasn't practically accommodating. It was. It kept him out of the sight of the Order of the Phoenix and gave him a satisfactory place to hold meetings and torture sessions. It was even fairly agreeable to live in, for the most part. His room was lavished with rich upholstery and other adornments. All of that was good and fine. It was the smell of the old, sunless stone was what he couldn't get used to. It reeked of lifelessness.

He vaguely wished for any sign of outer existence other than his aggravatingly cowardly followers. He'd not been out of the manor in months, on the advice from his most trusted death eater, Severus Snape, to stay hidden as the frantic Order raged at the death of their beloved Albus Dumbledore.

Tom snorted at the thought of the old man, shaking his head slightly in disgust. He glanced over in the direction of Wormtail, the rat who always sat at the side of his seat, just as the sniveling buffoon uttered a sniff of curiosity. "Is everything okay, master?" Wormtail inquired nervously, bowing his head slightly.

"Shut up," Tom replied nonchalantly, waving his hand to silence the pitiful waste of human flesh.

Voldemort ignored the man as he sniffled in what was most likely fear. His mind traveled to the nights of his "imprisonment". The Dark Lord was not a man who needed much sleep, nor did he like to succumb to the act. He felt unprotected as he slept and loathed the vulnerability that accompanied dormancy.

Therefore, he often stayed up for days at a time, merely to escape the hours of weakness. However, this insomnia had brought on an even more distressing weakness. It was one that he had not decided as to whether or not it was more beneficial or destructive. The lack of sleep had weakened his mind; not to a severe degree, of course, but it had lightened his barriers ever so slightly. As it seemed, this weakening was all that Harry Potter needed to forge an almost nightly connection to Tom.

He highly doubted that the mental rendezvous were intentional on the boy's part. Most likely they were involuntary, at the times when the young wizard's mind was the most vulnerable. In other words, Voldemort was almost certain that the connections happened when Harry was asleep.

Needless to say, it was rather unwelcome. It was as if the boy tugged physically on his mind. He could almost feel him staring through his eyes sometimes, as if his head was not his own.

It happened at the most inconvenient times at well. Whenever he was either completely relaxed or in an emotional spike; that was when Harry Potter would show. He'd even felt the wizard's presence during certain activities that the witless wonder was very unwelcome to witness. Sure, Voldemort could handle Harry observing tortures, murders, and blankly staring at walls≈as he was doing now≈, but when the lighting bolt scar tainted the Dark Lord's nights of the more pleasurable activities that he sometimes indulged in┘ well┘. that was taking things too far.

Most likely the young wizard would not take it upon himself to mention Voldemortis particular tastes. After all, the last thing Tom Riddle needed was for the Daily Prophet to announce that yes, he was evil, but he was an evil fairy, which seemed a bit less frightening. Tom had never really considered his preferences to be an issue. The Death Eaters never spoke a word of it, and he naturally felt more powerful to be able to dominate other men. It was ridiculous to think that it would interfere by any means with his conquest. Yet, it was still not something that he liked to share openly with every passerby.

Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would actually believe Potter if he told them that the great Lord Voldemort was gay.

Voldemort's face twisted into a disgusted grimace and he felt the sudden need to lash out at someone. "Wormtail!"

The man at his side cried out in surprise and stuttered his reply pathetically. "Y-yes master?"

The Dark Lord surveyed the vermin for a moment, considering torturing him for a bit; but the more the rat sniffled and shook, the less he felt like doing anything to him.  
"Get out," he commanded, looking away at the wall once more.

Though Pettigrew was rather confused, he was likely much more frightened, so he did as he was told and fled the room, gently shutting the heavy oak doors behind him. Tom snorted at the ridiculous display of cowardice; an action that was very unlike him. It was not as if he never showed more human-like tendencies. No, he did not weep or sulk, but he too succumbed to the occasional snort of disapproval or grimace of disgust.

He lifted his wand and surveyed it carefully. It was pathetically cliche looking, with its bone-white sheen and dramatized handle that looked like a skull from afar. It was not a skull, of course, but it resembled one closely enough.

He twirled the wand around his fingers in thought. Contrary to popular belief, the ivory stick did not hold as many deaths within it as were expected of him. His count was around ten--for the wand, at least. No doubt it was more than the average wizard, surely, but he felt he had displayed at least a certain amount of restraint in comparison to his reputation.

Not that it wasn't flattering for the entire wizarding world to believe that he went on daily killing sprees.

Voldemort chuckled inwardly. It was really amusing how ignorant the outside world truly was when it came to him. For instance, they seemingly believed that he held torture sessions for mere pleasure. Though that had been the case on a few occasions, it was rare. Usually, whenever he uttered Crucio, it was for a reason. One had to make a point somehow. Crucio was merely a convenient way to make your opinion clear. It was also very good for retrieving information, but he had much easier means for that need.

It was true that he liked to cause pain, but only on those who had likewise inflicted some sort of inconvenience upon him. For those who tried to hurt him, disobey him, or hinder him, punishment was necessary. He liked to see them squirm. Tom saw it as an eye for an eye.

They were right about his thirst for power. Tom lusted after it. Power over himself and others was something he dreamed of. He liked control. He liked things to go the way he wanted them to. It wasn't his fault that his tendencies were towards more┘ violent methods. He did what he needed to do to get things done. He loved getting what he wanted.

He did not love the smell of fear. He hated it, but it was often accompanied with pain, and pain was often accompanied with hate. That he could deal with. Hate was something he had cornucopias of. He'd had plenty of reasons to be hateful. The way he was treated as a child was means enough. But the best way he'd gotten all that hate was from others. The more he came to power, the more people hated him. He had consumed all of their malcontent as if it were food.

It had left him to become nothing more than a monster.

And being a monster got him what he wanted.

But being a monster also did something else. It secluded him. He'd tried desperately to gain respect and reverence, but all he had gained was fear. Never had he genuinely been respected. He had to admit it was hard to gain honest respect when you tried to suck it from fear. The respect he did have was from a horrific viewpoint. It was not real.

Still, he was alone. Fear was his company.

And he hated the smell of fear.

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**Waaa! I know it was short! I'm just trying to introduce everyone and the settings! Now stuff will actually start to happen! Yay for stuff!**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr**


	3. Horcrux

**A/N**: Now that the Deathly Hallows is out, I feel the need to clarify that no, this fanfiction will not be compliant with the seventh book.

HOWEVER! I will be using certain aspects of the Deathly Hallows, such as certain horcruxes. That's all I'll pretty much use from the books, though. So if you don't want horcruxes to be spoiled for you, don't read chapter 3+ until after you've read the Deathly Hallows.

Otherwise, since I started it before DH's release, I'll stick to following the events of HBP only. This story takes place in the Deathly Hallows time, though.

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_Honestly what will become of me  
don't like reality  
It's way too clear to me  
But really life is daily  
We are what we don't see  
Missed everything daydreaming_

_Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
come to an end come to an  
Why do all good things come to end?_

_Traveling I only stop at exits  
Wondering if I'll stay  
Young and restless  
Living this way I stress less  
I want to pull away when the dream dies  
The pain sets it and I don't cry  
I only feel gravity and I wonder why_

_Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end_

_Well the dogs were whistling a new tune  
Barking at the new moon  
Hoping it would come soon so that they could  
Dogs were whistling a new tune  
Barking at the new moon  
Hoping it would come soon so that they could  
Die die die die die_

_Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
come to an end come to an  
Why do all good things come to end?_

_Well the dogs were barking at a new moon  
Whistling a new tune  
Hoping it would come soon  
And the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day 'til the feeling went away  
And the sky was falling on the clouds were dropping and  
the rain forgot how to bring salvation  
the dogs were barking at the new moon  
Whistling a new tune  
Hoping it would come soon _

_So that they could die._

_-Nelly Furtado – All Good Things_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 3- Horcrux

"Helga Hufflepuff's cup was once owned by Hepzibah Smith, a distant descendant of Hufflepuff. It was stolen from her after her murder at the hands of…Voldemort," Hermione faltered at the name still, even though she'd spoken it for years now. Old habits died hard.

The brown-haired witch was currently describing one of their suspected horcruxes. She'd done research on all they scrounged up on their list, of sorts, and was now delineating all of their histories to Harry and Ron so that they could possibly figure out where to start their journey at last.

"The Cup," she continued, "Like Slytherin's Locket--which was what you and Dumbledore went to find, Harry--went on to become one of Voldemort's many Horcruxes. It's possible that it could reside at Hogwarts. After all, Helga Hufflepuff was one of the founders."

"But it was stolen from," Harry interjected as Ron watched on with a bemusing thoughtful expression. "Most likely the thief took it from Hogwarts."

Hermione frowned, her brows knit together in intelligent agitation.

"Well…" Ron began, starting Harry and Hermione from their concentrated ponderings, "If it disappeared shortly after Voldemort murdered her…"

Hermione caught onto the thought process and nodded vigorously. "That means that Voldemort himself must have taken it," she finished.

"Or at least one of his Death Eaters," added Harry, scanning down the list of horcruxes once more without truly reading through it. "If Voldemort is hiding it, then we've got no hope of getting our hands on it. He'll probably have all sorts of protection…"

"But Voldemort himself can't possibly be hiding it," Hermione said, flipping open one of the dark books that the trio had been given by Remus Lupin. She read aloud:

"A creator of a horcrux cannot be near the item physically after its creation. This closeness or contact would cause severe physical and mental distress; enough to leave the witch or wizard incapable of using magic while in the vicinity of the horcrux."

Ron and Harry were both silent for a moment after she finished.

"So," Ron began again, surprising his companions once more at his speech, "That would mean that Voldemort couldn't keep the cup near 'im. So even if he did have one of his Death Eaters take it, he couldn't personally protect it."

"The place where the horcrux is then," Harry said, a little loudly as his excitement grew at a realization, "Would be a place where Voldemort would be completely unable to go. If we went there it would be impossible for him to stop us. We wouldn't have to worry about him attacking."

Hermione nodded brusquely. "That's right, but you've got to remember that his followers are just as dangerous, Harry. They may not be as powerful as him, but they're still powerful enough to kill us if we aren't prepared."

"We've taken on Death Eaters before!" Harry defended, irritated that his excitement had been shot down. "Load of times! We're not kids anymore, Hermione. We can handle them."

Hermione frowned at Harry's recklessness. She understood it, but it was still frustrating. "So you're telling me that if twenty Death Eaters were to attack us, you actually think that three to twenty is fair odds? Don't tell me you're that foolish."

Harry scowled. She had a point, but he had known that already. He was just so tired of sitting and reading and researching. He wanted to find the horcruxes and destroy them. It wasn't as if they had all the time in the world to accomplish that goal! Couldn't Hermione see that they were running out of time?!

Seeing Harry's exasperated look, Hermione forced herself to be less correcting of him. "Harry. There's no doubt that Voldemort has the horcrux's hiding place very well protected. There will be more than Death Eaters waiting for us if we go recklessly forward. Besides, we don't even no where it is at this point."

"We don't know where any of them are!" Harry exclaimed, feeling hopeless for a moment. "How will we ever find them? We've got no clue as to the location of any of them." He clasped fists around his knees and dug his fingers into his jeans to calm his swelling feeling of self-doubt.

"Actually, I do have an idea where one might be," Hermione stated. She smiled softly as the statement earned a hopeful look from Harry and an intrigued one from Ron. She grabbed a long sheet of parchment. Upon it were gobs of her scribbled handwriting, which appeared to be in chunks and unintelligible notes.

"Do you remember that one of the other horcruxes had to be either of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor's?" Hermione inquired and she fingered through her notes. The two boys nodded and Hermione continued. "Well I did a great deal of research on Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaws history and possessions. A few things seemed to pop out. For instance, Gryffindor's sword seemed possible; but then I found a story about Ravenclaw that was very interesting. She had a diadem."

"A whatsit?" Ron asked suddenly, looking perplexed. Harry's confusion was no less.

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement. "A diadem. It's like a crown or a tiara."

Ron snorted, making Harry chuckle. It had been a while since his friend had displayed any true emotion, so even a snort was pleasing to hear.

"Anyway," Hermione started again, "Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem was stolen by her daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, who was later known as the Grey Lady, ghost of Ravenclaw House. You remember her, don't you?"

"Yeah, Harry replied, remembering the silent, gowned ghost who had never spoken to him as long as he'd been at Hogwarts.

Hermione continued to peruse her notes. "After running away with her mother's tiara, Helena was pursued by her then-suitor, the Bloody Baron."

Ron and Harry made disgusted faces, but Hermione ignored them.

"Shortly before he caught up with her in an Albanian forest, Helena hid the Diadem in a tree. When Helena refused the Baron's advances, he killed her. Horrified by what he'd done, he killed himself. Years later, Helena's spirit was tricked into revealing the Diadem's resting place by the charming Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry's ears perked up immediately and the scowl from earlier returned to his face. "Volemort."

Hermione nodded grimly. "Riddle traveled to Albania and acquired the Diadem, transforming it into a Horcrux. Later, when he returned to Hogwarts to request from Dumbledore the Defence Against the Dark Arts position and when he cursed said position, he hid Ravenclaw's Horcrux in the one place that he believed he alone knew about, the Room of Requirement."

"The place where we held those Dumbledore's Army meetings?" Ron gasped.

"The same," Hermione replied.

"But how would we be able to get it out of there?" Harry frowned. "Could we just wish to see the diadem and it will appear behind the doors?"

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "I've got no clue. The only way we'll truly know is if we go and see. For all we know, the horcrux could have been removed when the Death Eaters came to the castle through the Room of Requirement last year."

"It's still worth a shot," Harry said.

"Well then I guess that's where we'll start our search," Hermione concluded. "Now, remember what I told you about how to destroy a horcrux, Harry. It's very complicated." She pointed her finger up into the air severely.

"Merlin, Hermione!" Harry cried dramatically as if she had just stabbed him. "You've told me so many times my ears will fall off if I hear it again!" He grinned at her affronted expression.

Hermione smiled at the display of levity. "Still, Harry, we don't want to mess up. The results could be catastrophic. No one really knows what would happen if you were to incorrectly try to shatter the bond of a horcrux from its object."

"Well I've already destroyed one," Harry muttered, "I should be a pro by now."

"You didn't even know it was a horcrux," Hermione countered.  
"Ignorance was bliss back then," Harry answered as he stood, sounding remarkably jaded. "Let's get going then. We can't disapparate Hogwarts from here, and I'm bloody well ready to get out of this house."

The other two nodded and Hermione decided to let the topic drop until they reached Hogwarts. Heading down the stairs from the library, the trio glanced around once more at the uninviting interior of Grimmauld Place before walking out the front door.

"And here I thought we weren't going back to Hogwarts this year," Ron grumbled quietly.

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When they arrived just outside the anti-apparation wards of Hogwarts, the trio was momentarily stunned at the sight of the majestic castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They took a reticent moment of remembrance as they stared at the unchanged grounds. It was as if nothing had changed, yet it felt like so many years had passed since they'd last set foot on these grounds.

Harry took a hesitant step forward. It was odd being there; no longer a student. The Weasleys had informed him that Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, had grudgingly decided to reopen the school, though many students—or most likely their parents—had decided not to attend this year.

Ginny had informed them that the school was almost empty in comparison to their former years of schooling. The most that had returned were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. One group afraid to show cowardice, the other afraid to miss a year's education.

The three trudged slowly up to the castle's entrance. Harry noted that Hagrid's hut, which had been set on fire the year previously, had been put right once more. It really was as if nothing had happened. Harry felt oddly annoyed.

They had not taken it upon themselves to think to send McGonagall an owl alerting her of their arrival. At the time they had not thought of it, feeling it unnecessary and time-consuming. But now, as they pushed open the great doors of the entrance hall and entered a world that had once been their home, they now felt as if their surroundings were alien and far away, causing them to regret not announcing themselves before hand.

The school was bustling with the sounds of happy students from the Great Hall, but it was otherwise silent and peaceful. They almost felt like they were intruding upon something; like they were being wrong and indecent to bring the trouble of the outside world into such a sanctuary. That's how Ron and Hermione felt, at least. Harry was traveling through a tumult of very different feelings.

As the Boy-Who-Lived entered Hogwarts, he felt as if he'd been hit in the gut. He'd half-expected to see dark, lifeless halls, with the stains of blood from his shoes as he'd run to chase Snape and Draco still on the floor as if that fateful night had happened only last night, and not so many months ago.

However, the blood was gone and the halls were bright and filled with cheery sounds of content silence and giggling children.

It didn't seem right. Harry felt a wave of rage rush over him. It was similar to what he felt for those at the Ministry of Magic, where they constantly covered up everything and denied the reality of Voldemort's rising. Hen was also angry, and perhaps sad, at the fact that he knew no Dumbledore resided here. Nor, he thought with a confusing feel of regret and disgust, was Snape. The absence of the two men was palpable to him; both absences speaking multitudes to Harry. The emptiness screamed at Harry, berating him and mocking him, laughing in his face.

Harry, of course, knew all of these overwhelming emotions to be idiotic and unwarranted, but he still felt a lingering whisper of them and he crunched them down into the back of his mind as he started to ascend the stairs with Ron and Hermione to McGonagall's office.

McGonagall had been shocked, to say in the least, at the trio's appearance.

"Why in the devil are you wandering around unprotected?" she screeched. Ron shrunk back in mock fear. "You should be with members of the Order! Merlin's Beard, if Molly knew you three were wandering around so casually!"

"We're not wandering around casually," retorted Harry. "This is the only place we've been besides Grimmauld Place and the Burrow."

McGonagall's initial shock seemed to have died down and her expression was now one replaced with pity and relief. "It's wonderful to see you again," she said finally, "This must be so hard for you. Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, Professor," Hermione answered politely, opening her mouth to say more. The Headmistress cut her off.

"As it seems," the wizened old lady said, "You are no longer students of this school." She said this with a bit of a face, as if she had tasted something rather unfriendly to the gullet. The three looked at their feet bashfully. They'd had a reason not to return, but it was still rather shameful—not completing one's education.

"So," McGonagall continued, "I am not your Professor. Besides, if I am anything at this critically point in our history, it is your comrade." She smiled, something that the three teens had not often seen her do. This strange occurrence prompted them to smile as well. "So call me Minerva," she finished quickly, looking flustered at the show of affection.

She waved her hand through the air dismissively, looking up at the picture of Albus Dumbledore as a distraction. The old man was currently snoozing in the portrait, his half-moon spectacles lingering on the precipice of falling off his nose. Harry shared her stare for a moment, a twinge of accepted pain biting at his heart.

"Well then," Minerva announced suddenly as if she was about to give a speech. "What was it that you came here for?"

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood outside the wall of the Room of Requirement, staring nervously at the stone wall.

So they were finally going to face a horcrux.

Would it even be there? Had the Death Eaters already taken it? Would they even know which room to think of to make the right one appear? Would the Room of Requirement even allow them to enter it?

Hundreds of questions buzzed through the teens' minds as they walked back and forth in front of the wall.

One…two…three times.

Slowly, they felt the crackle of magic as a door began to fade onto the wall as if it was building itself from nothing. Spiraling and twisting metals framed the elaborate opening and a smooth, elegant door handle rose from the surface.

Glancing back and forth at his companions, Harry grabbed the knob and pulled.

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**Eek gads! They're actually doing something! Sorry about that semi- cliff-hanger. It wasn't that bad, but this is where things start to get interesting. I know Voldie wasn't in this chapter, but I'm sick of writing slash that only focuses on the two involved and there's no outside story.**

**Besides, this has a lot to do with the two of them anyways. :P**

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**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	4. Awareness

_There's someone inside me that softly kills everyone around  
They don't know they're dead to me cause intent never makes a sound  
All along they found I strangled lovers who've learned from slower hands  
With these eleven minutes I could teach you what I am_

_You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_

_There's an art in seclusion. Production in depression  
if a stranger turns up missing, this song is my confession  
Tell the tales of the trail of dead, lovers learn from slower hands  
Losing self in myself, inner demons make demands_

_You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_

_You're suffocating me, so very hard to breathe  
My mask is growing heavy but I've forgotten who's beneath_

_You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_

_-Anberlin - Reclusion_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 4- Awareness

Voldemort was thoroughly displeased.

Thoroughly, excruciatingly, infuriatingly displeased.

"Lucius!" he bellowed as he swept through the halls of his underground manor with an obvious goal. He black robes swept around him as he strode, giving him the strange appearance of floating. "Lucius!"

A man with stunning silver-blonde hair that fell down to his waist rounded the corner, looking shocked. His grey eyes widened as he caught sight of the Dark Lord rushing towards him and he unceremoniously stepped aside in case the man intended to pass him. "My Lord? Is something the matter?" he inquired carefully, making sure not to look into the snake-like man's eyes.

Riddle scowled. "I did not, Lucius," he jerked his palm upwards and Lucius Malfoy's head snapped up to face him. "I did not free you from your imprisonment in Azkaban for you to sit here idly as Harry Potter plots to overthrow me!"

"My Lord?" Lucius responded, confused.

Voldemort shook his head violently, obviously disgusted at having to provide an explanation. "The boy is dull, Lucius. We all know this," he spat, "But those who are with him are not so witless. His cohorts have obviously been planning something. The boy is at Hogwarts now. Why has he not been followed?"

The elder Malfoy looked stunned. "My Lord," he began slowly, but Voldemort cut him off.  
"Save the formalities, Lucius," Tom snapped, "And tell me why you've not been keeping an eye on the brat."

"We… we have been trying to overthrow the Ministry of Magic, my L-," Lucius stopped himself before uttering the end of his sentence, trying not to show weakness as he strained not to wince for fear of reprimand. "The boy has not appeared in months-"

"And you think this is for no reason?" the Dark Lord bellowed. "No, you must believe he is merely napping all this time."

Lucius tried to defend himself, but Tom gave him no room to speak.  
"I overestimated you intelligence. To think that they at least are not training Potter. Merlin knows what else they are planning. Potter has been declared my one true adversary by public and prophecy alike, yet you do not deem him an issue?" Voldemort's pale green skin contorted as he venomously continued, his hairless features contorted with aggravation. "This is a war, my dear Lucius, and as such the enemy must be watched at every turn. Do not concentrate solely on government ties."

"But, my Lord," Lucius interjected, "Must we not control the government if we are to control the people? Without a stronger force on our side, we have no way to bring down the entirety of the order of the Phoenix." He waited with trepidation as Voldemort regarded him silently, his expression unreadable.

"You are correct," he said finally, and Lucius relaxed slightly. "However," Tom extended a spidery index finger and ran it slowly across Lucius' jaw-line. "If you do not get some people on Potter, I will be very, very unimpressed." He retracted his hand sharply and Malfoy's eye twitched. "I want to know why, after all this time, he has returned to that old school." As Lucis gave him an inquisitive look, he added an answer to the silent question. "The boy's mind has been weak as of late. It is simple to see what he is thinking of when he concentrates on it so expressly as he often does. It's pathetic, really."

"What do you wish me to do, my Lord?" the blonde wizard inquired, "Shall I go to Hogwarts?"

Voldemort shook his head. "No, no," he paused, thoughtful. "Actually, I have a much more inviting idea. Seeing as that annoying old man no longer resides in Hogwarts, I feel like paying that castle an overdue visit." He waved his hand to silence Lucius as the man opened his mouth to protest. "I'll take Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. I need no more than that. After all, this will be a short excursion."

"My Lord, do you wish to destroy the boy now?"

"Not at all," Voldemort scoffed, as if the idea was simply ridiculous. "There will be a time and place for that. No, I simply wish to find out what he is up to. Besides, he needs a friendly reminder of my presence."

"But the castle is a known location for some of the Order members," Lucius continued in vain, trying to persuade the Dark Lord to remain in the manor. "Surely Potter will have some of them with him. It's far too dangerous."

"Are you implying," Tom replied coldly, looking at the other wizard with dangerous red eyes, "That I cannot defend myself against a few measly witches and wizards? Protectors of mudbloods and blood traitors? Do you think that they could overpower me?" He ignored Lucius' mortified look. "I will only be there for a short period of time. Just enough to say hello to Harry. I am so dying to see him."

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"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, gazing around the cathedral of a room in awe. "Look at all this stuff!"

Hermione was just as stunned, but Harry had seen this room before. Entering the high-ceilinged cavern, piled high with hundreds of objects, he looked around on nearby shelves, dead set on finding the item he desired. Stacks of dusty books, prank toys, and old candies littered the floor and he had to maneuver himself carefully around the odd rubble.

"This must have taken years and years to create," Hermione gasped as she and Ron followed Harry. "Imagine what's in here!"

"Well hopefully a horcrux is on the list," replied Harry and he climbed onto a pile of books and peered onto a shelf that bore numerous copies of broom care manuals.

His comment seemed to snap Ron and Hermione out of their amazement and they started to search as well.

Ron picked up a book and peered underneath it, as if the horcrux would be hiding there. He turned to Harry. "What does a dayd…..diag….dild-"

"Diadem!" Hermione ejaculated in annoyance.

Ron flushed. "Well what does a _diadem_ look like?" he murmured.  
"It's just like a tiara, Ronald," Hermione responded briskly as she inspected an old telescope. "It will resemble a crown," she added as Ron stood there dumbly.

"Oh…right," Ron answered as he scratched the back of his red head in embarrassment.

Harry slid past shelf after shelf, gazing distractedly at their contents and he fingered his wand idly. Suddenly, a thought came to him. Surely it couldn't be that easy. Clearing his throat, he raised his wand and uttered, "Accio diadem."

Sure enough, Hermione let out a surprised squeak as a clutter of objects above her fell of the shelves and a silver gleam flew from the shelf into Harry's waiting hand.

Ron stumbled over to Harry, who was looking quite surprised. "Who knew it'd be that easy?"

"Well I suppose whoever put it in here didn't believe anyone would think to look for it in here, so anti magic charms were unnecessary," Hermione stated as she prized herself from underneath a pile of rubble.

Harry was inspecting the crown, suppressing an urge to chuckle. It was a shimmering silver, with ornate carvings in the precious metal and shining blue stones set in its surface. "Seems a bit girlie for a horcrux, don't you think?" he asked with a grin. Run guffawed.  
"Oh don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione snapped, snatching the diadem from his fingers.  
"Hey!" Harry started, but she smacked him in the shoulder and it effectively silenced him. He looked betrayed by the physical abuse and rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.

Hermione rummaged around in her bag for a minute and pulled out a vial of shimmering blue liquid. She'd explained to them beforehand what it was, and they swallowed nervously at the sight of it.

"Doesn't look like it's as dangerous as it is," Ron gulped.

"Well it is, Ronald, so don't bother me, "Hermione responded, laying the diadem down on the floor and handling the potion to Harry, who took it gingerly.

He lifted up the vial to face level and inspected it curiously. "So this will destroy the horcrux?" he asked, unbelieving.

"It will melt it down until there's nothing left," Hermione nodded as she spoke. "It's Dindellum's Acid. Can destroy any object that is controlled by dark magic."

Ron grunted as he admired the concept. "Bloody hell."

Hermione rolled her eyes and yanked Ron's arm as they moved away from Harry and the horcrux. "Remember, Harry," Hermione started.

"I know, I know," Harry broke her off. "Run away from it as soon as I poor the potion on."

"And don't forget to levitate it! The potion will cling the diadem, so don't worry about the floor…" Hermione continued to rattle off instructions, but Harry ignored her as he flicked his wand and the glittering crown rose into the air in front of him as if pulled by strings. And there, directly at the level of his chest, the horcrux floated.

He uncorked the vial and raised it above the diadem, ready to pour it upon the metal and rid the world forever of one shard of Voldemort's soul.

He was scared, admittedly, of what was going to happen. They'd had no dark items to test the potion on, so there was no telling what would happen… if it would backfire. He heard Hermione cough pointedly behind him and, steeling himself, he tipped the potion and watched with a morbid fascination as the shimmering blue liquid fell onto the crown and latched itself to it like slimy fingers, covering every inch of the silver until it was now what appeared to be a floating ring of goo.

"Harry get away from it!" Hermione shouted.

But Harry was entranced. The diadem began to shiver and shake, and a small trail of steam began to spiral upwards. He narrowed his eyes. Was that a scream?

"Harry!"

The diadem was spinning violently now, its turns and twist so fast that Harry's eyes lost track of how many times it danced through the air. A garbled shout sounded in his mind and his scar was set on fire. He let out a cry of pain and felt someone tugging at the back of his shirt. He didn't budge. His feet felt nailed to the floor. The hand slipped away.

A cloud of smoke as big as Harry himself began to form. He could no longer see the horcrux, but he could still hear the angry yells that seemed to come from within the mist.

The fog sizzled and twisted as if gusts of wind were propelling it, and then, in one split second, Harry was inside it.

He howled in agony that resembled the pain of the Cruciatus curse as the smoke scalded his skin. It soaked into his flesh and his eyes snapped open, unseeing as the furious fog sunk into him, branding him; _burning_ him.

A voice whispered to him.

_You cannot touch me._

And then, it was over.

Harry fell to his knees, sobbing as his entire body throbbed and protested. His skin felt stretched and unwelcome, as if it were a trap and not his own flesh.

It took him a few minutes to realize that Hermione was shaking him and Ron was screaming his name. The raven-haired wizard struggled valiantly to focus his eyes and they finally rest upon his friends' frightened faces.

"Oh thank goodness!" Hermione cried. "Harry what happened? We couldn't see you and all we heard was you screaming…"

Harry couldn't respond. He was still trying to push away the pain. His skin was just tingling now.

"Mate?" Ron knelt down to face Harry. "Are you ok?"

Harry nodded and realized that he hadn't blinked for quite sometime.

"We should take you to Madame Pomphrey before we leave. She should check you over before-"

Hermione was cut off by a muffled shout. Then another, and another. They were coming from the halls outside the room.

Fearing the worst, the three hurried to the door of the Room of Requirement, Ron supporting Harry as the latter took one last look at where the horcrux had been. All that was left now was a burn mark on the floor. The voice he'd heard while in the smoke echoed through his mind. It had been Voldemort's voice.

_You cannot touch me._

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**Come on, where are the reviews? Give me cookie or something! I'll pout if you don't! No one likes it when I pout, either. Scary sight.**

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**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	5. Taction

_I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind  
There was something so pleasant about that place.  
Even your emotions have an echo  
In so much space_

_And when you're out there  
Without care,  
Yeah, I was out of touch  
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough  
I just knew too much_

_Does that make me crazy?  
Does that make me crazy?  
Does that make me crazy?  
Probably_

_And I hope that you are having the time of your life  
But think twice, that's my only advice_

_Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,_

_Ha ha ha bless your soul  
You really think you're in control_

_Well, I think you're crazy  
I think you're crazy  
I think you're crazy  
Just like me_

_My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb  
And all I remember is thinking, I wanna be like them  
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun  
And it's no coincidence I've come  
And I can die when I'm done_

_But maybe I'm crazy  
Maybe you're crazy  
Maybe we're crazy  
Probably_

_-Gnarls Barkley – Crazy_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 5- Taction

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out of the Room of Requirement only to be nearly run over by panicking students. They were so scared that they didn't even notice the trio as they ran by, some crying and others yelling.

"Gods," Ron muttered, still supporting Harry by holding his friend's arm around his shoulders. "What's going on? Not another attack I hope," he swallowed dryly, remembering the last time Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonagall ran around the corner just as he said this. Upon catching sight of them, she let out a sigh of relief and rushed towards them. At seeing Harry's weak form leaning against the lanky Weasley, she let out a motherly hoot. "What in the world has happened to you?"

Harry opened his mouth to say it was nothing, but she continued to speak as if she'd not even asked him the question. "You three must leave here at once!" She gestured vigorously down the corridor.

"What's happened Prof-… I mean, Minerva?" Hermione seemed to choke on her former teacher's first name. It was odd to say her name, but that was an oddness reserved to be thought on another time, as she realized that, though at first glance the Headmistress merely seemed flustered, upon further inspection the old woman was quite terrified.

"Voldemort is here!" Minerva answered breathlessly. "He is out on the grounds as we speak! Potter, take your friends and leave now."

"How could he have known?!" Harry exclaimed, pulling away from Ron and straightening as if he'd not just been through physical torture moments ago. The tingling had still not left his flesh, but he ignored it. "Are the grounds being watched?"

"Are _we _being watched?" Ron whispered as he was sickened with the realization that they were, most likely, being watched. It hadn't occurred to him before, but now that he thought about it, it was completely logical. Of course Voldemort had Death Eaters watching them.

"Has anyone been hurt?" Harry demanded of the Headmistress, a familiar expression of determination gracing his features.

"No, there were some students out on the ground, but he ignored them. He seems to have a specific person in mind," Minerva said, eyeing Harry severely.

Harry frowned. "Well then I guess I'll give him what he wants," he growled, starting towards the entrance of the castle.

"Harry! Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione latched onto his shirt sleeve tightly. "Don't go to your death!"

Harry froze for a minute. She was right. He couldn't just barge out and meet the most dangerous wizard in history. It was reckless, foolish…

_You cannot touch me._

The voice mocked him again and Harry's Gryffindor rage overtook him. Yanking his arm free, he took off in a sprint down the hall. He didn't want to fight him right now. He just... he had to see him. The man who'd haunted every night of his sleep, who ruled his days, and had become his obsession--his motivation. That man; that horrible, malicious, murderous man; was the reason Harry was who he was today. He drove his every action. All that Harry planned, desired, and worked for was because of Voldemort.

He had to see him. It had been so long since he'd seen the reptilian Lord that he'd almost become a surreal dream; unreal, like an old memory that had dramatized itself over time. Harry had almost forgotten why he was fighting. _What_ he was fighting.

He didn't quite understand it, but as the feet of his friends slapped the marble floors behind him, he knew that he just had to see. He had to reestablish reality. He had to feel that hate again so that he could keep going. After all, it was hate of Voldemort that drove him—and fear.

He skid to a stop at the huge doors of the entrance. That's where he remembered himself. He also fought because of love. His love for his friends.

He whirled around to face Ron and Hermione who had just slid to a stop beside him, red-faced and afraid. "I want you two to stay here," he said authoritatively, hoping that just this once they would listen.

"Quit saying that, mate," Ron retorted, pulling out his wand.

"It's never worked before Harry, so stop trying," Hermione finished, sliding her wand out of her robe's pocket.

He felt a surge of affection for them, but it was drenched over by the cold dread in his gut and a renewed burning in his scar. They turned to the door.

"Is this it?" Ron inquired, "I thought it'd be a bit more climactic."

Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. I don't think this is it. It's just the beginning."

The readied themselves and, without another word, pushed open the doors to face whatever was waiting for them outside.

They walked slowly into the entrance courtyard, wands raised and ready to cast spells within moments. It was abandoned, however, and as they eased into the empty courtyard, where no sound but the birds overhead echoed into the stone pillars, they began to doubt the validity of the students' sighting.

They had reached the end of the courtyard and sighed, daring to lower their wands. "Perhaps they were wrong," Harry ventured, turning around to face his friends when they did not answer him. "Guys? Hey!"

Ron and Hermione were currently wrestling two gargantuan Death Eaters, whose fat arms were locked in choke-holds around the two teens' necks. Harry looked around frantically, his wand swinging left and right.

"Looking for me?"

Harry recognized the voice instantly as the warm breath hit his ear and a chill crept down his spine. "Tom," Harry spat.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that," Voldemort sighed, throwing on a falsely offended look as he rounded Harry and stuck his wand in the young wizard's face. "It's rather rude."

"It's your name isn't it?" Harry replied harshly, gritting his teeth as he fought against the urge to fall to his knees. He wouldn't admit it, but he was petrified.

"Once," the Dark Lord replied, smirking suddenly. "Do you fear me Harry?" His voice was a cold whisper; taunting.

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he raised his wand, a spell on his lips.

"Crucio!" Voldemort cried.

Harry reeled, falling to the stone ground and convulsing as excruciating pain wracked every nerve of his body. It stopped as quickly as it had begun.  
"That was also very rude," Tom Riddle snapped, glaring down at Harry's shivering form.

Harry wanted to reply, but he couldn't find the ability and he just laid there, spasming in the memory of pain. Voldemort chuckled. "I just drop by to say hello and you attack me," he quipped. "How very hostile. Do you have a lot of pent up frustration, Harry?"

Harry ignored the Dark Lord's jeering taunts and he pushed himself to his feet, quivering. He glanced over at his friends. They'd given up fighting against the brutish Death Eaters who held them captive and they watched him with shining eyes of worry and fear. Harry raised his wand again. "What do you want?" he snarled, willing himself to stare unblinkingly into the red eyes before him.

"That's simple," the older wizard responded, "I want you to die." He waved his wand around a bit as if demonstrating. "It's really quite easy, Harry. Why don't you just oblige?" The Death Eaters behind him chuckled, but he silenced them with an icy glare. Turning back to Harry, he smiled; a cold, demented, unforgiving smile.

"Kill me then," Harry uttered boldly. He had no idea where the statement had come from, and he looked down at his wand in shock, as if the length of wood had forced him to speak.

Another mirthless chuckle. "No, I don't feel like it today. As I said," Tom placed the tip of his wand against Harry's lightning scar. "I just came for a quick visit."

Harry felt a rush of fury and he batted the wand away, ignoring Voldemort's look of sheer ire as he did so. "You can't touch me!" He hollered, surprised to find himself echoing the voice of the horcrux.

The dark wizard's eyes were outraged, but his face remained a stony calm. "Oh, but I can," he whispered dangerously. Without another second for thought, Tom lunged out and grabbed Harry's throat violently, shoving him against a stone pillar. "Easily," he hissed. To his annoyance and confusion, however, Harry seemed to have cared less about the fact that his hand was now wrapped around the boy's windpipe. Instead, the emerald eyes were staring in shock at his face, as if he'd never seen the Dark Lord before.

"What are you looking at?" Voldemort barked, shaking Harry's neck a bit to refocus the boy's attention. It was by that action that Tom himself realized the reason for Potter's awe. His skin, as it clenched around Harry's thin throat, was no longer a milky jade. It was a pale tan with a bit of pink flushed throughout it. It was normal.

A wisp of wind fell through the courtyard and Voldemort started as he felt something move atop his head. Hair? He resisted the temptation to reach up and run his fingers through it, and with an unreadable expression and wide eyes, he recoiled, jerking his hand back from Harry as if the boy's skin was poison.

Immediately he saw his skin fade back to a misty green and no longer did hair rest atop his head. He was the snake-like lord once more. He almost felt like he'd been deprived of something. Anger overtook him. "What magic is this, Potter?" he snarled, raising his wand to threaten the younger wizard.

Harry's face slowly melted into a dawning understanding as he stood there, staring in the noseless, sallow face that glared daggers at him. As soon as the Dark Lord had grabbed his neck, his features had changed in the flicker of a thought. It had happened so quickly that Harry had to blink a few times before reality set in. No longer had the hairless, reptilian face been in front of him. Harry knew, somehow, that it was still Voldemort who stood before him, but he had changed. And the change was familiar. With a grudging understanding and horror that accompanied it, Harry realized that the face that had surfaced only moments ago on Voldemort's own skin had been the face of the man in his dreams a few nights before. Normally, this would have explained things, but Harry found that he was only growing more confused by the second.

Voldemort had looked human. But how? It was almost as unfathomable as Harry himself turning green-skinned and noseless. He jerked back to reality when Voldemort snapped at him again. Was that confusion in the man's voice? Fear?

"What magic was that boy?" Tom bellowed again. "I will kill you now if you do not answer me!"

"I… I don't know!" Harry shouted back, stammering a bit after his moment of contemplative silence.

"You lie!" Riddle did not move though. Harry almost thought he saw a flicker of indecision pass over the red eyes and he moved slightly, deciding against coming closer to Harry. Was Voldemort afraid to touch him now?

"I'm not lying!" Harry answered, feeling as frustrated as the man in front of him. "I don't know what happened. You were there same as me. I didn't cast any spell!"

Voldemort's face contorted for a second, furious thoughts flying through his mind. What had happened? Had that really been his flesh? The flesh that he would have had if not for his unceremonious defeat 16 years ago?

Tom scowled. He did not understand what interaction had passed between him and Harry, and it would not do to display his confusion in front of his enemy. The boy was a terrible liar, and he had not attempted to use that poor skill in his responses to Voldemort. Harry had no idea what was going on. That much was obvious They were in the same boat.

Refusing to think further on this until he was back within the quiet sanctity of his manor, the Dark Lord opened his mouth to bid the teen farewell. "Until next time, Harry Potter." With that, he spun around to nod at his followers. And in a swirl of black smoke and surreal tension, the three had disappeared into the afternoon.

Harry's hand tentatively touched his neck, realizing only now that it was burning. His head throbbed with pain from his scar and he felt ill. His comrades stood there, regarding him silently as the three of them digested what they had just witnessed.

What in the name of Merlin's shaggy, old beard had just happened?

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. His thoughts were rampant and panicked. Had that been some kind of old, dark magic?

"I think we better get back to the house, mate," Ron suggested, walking over to Harry and resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You look bloody worn out."

Hermione nodded in agreement and joined them. They linked their arms together and walked back out to the grounds, not even thinking to stop by Hagrid's before they disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

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**Yeah, it was a bit short, but it kind of had to be that way for the event that took place. Some chapters will be long; others short. I've decided on not forcing words to come when they just won't. Hey, if worse comes to worse, short chapters mean more chapters! Woo! -runs around in circles-**

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**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	6. Acumen

**A/N: A few of you might not understand some of my song choices for a few chapters. I assure you though, they were all chosen for a reason. Some might seem corny or not fit the story at the time, but I don't refer the songs specifically to the chapters they're in. They're about the entire story in general, so if you don't understand a song at the time you read it, you will understand it later. **

**A/N 2: Also, this is the first time I'm going to do this, but I'm willing to consider suggestions for what you all want to happen in the story. Yes, I have most of what's going to happen already planned out. The main plots points and huge events are set, but I'm willing to consider and possibly add and suggestions you might have, so feel free to throw ideas at me! **

**Now, enjoy! Slash still isn't coming for a bit, but it's close. I want to keep them in character, so I've got to be at last somewhat realistic here. :P**

**NEW EDIT; SEPTEMBER 10, 2008: The song for this chapter has been changed.**

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_Can you see me now?  
Can you see me now?_

All this weeping in the air  
Who can tell where it will fall?  
Through floating forests in the air  
'Cross the rolling open sea

Blow a kiss, I run through air  
Leave the past, find nowhere  
Floating forests in the air  
Clowns all around you

Clowns that only let you know  
Where you let your senses go  
Clowns all around you  
It's a cross I need to bear

All this black and cruel despair  
This is an emergency  
Don't you hide your eyes from me  
Open them and see me now

Can you see me now?  
Can you see me now?

Can you see?  
Can you see?  
See me here in the air  
Not holding on to anywhere  
But holding on so beware  
I have secrets I won't share

See me here pushing you  
If I then deny I do  
Contemplate or wish away  
If I ask you not to stay

Clowns that only let you know  
Where you let your senses go  
Clowns all around you  
It's a cross I need to bear

All this black and cruel despair  
This is an emergency  
Don't you hide your eyes from me  
Open them and see me now

_-TATU – Clowns_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 6- Acumen

Harry's heart was racing as he tossed and turned in his bead. His mind kept stretching back to the event in the stone courtyard of Hogwarts. He and his friends had tried for days to figure out what had happened when Voldemort had touched him. So far, they'd found no answers.

As if there wasn't enough going on in regards to Harry and the Dark Lord touching skin to skin. First, it had crumbled the dark wizard's very physical foundation. Then it had caused Harry immense physical pain. Now it turned Riddle into… into what exactly? Was that what Tom was truly meant to look like? If not for the reincarnation in the graveyard. If not for the failed Avada Kedavra of 16 years ago…

Was the man Harry had seen in his dreams and now in reality the true face of Lord Voldemort?

Harry shook his head into the pillow. He had to stop thinking about this. He'd had enough of the subject for today.

Earlier that afternoon, the Weasley twins had come to visit the trio at Grimmauld Place. Ron told them of occurrences of the days previous and Harry explained about his dream. The twins seemed to think it was unimportant.

"So you're saying Voldemort is the man of your dreams, Harry?" Fred… or maybe George had joked, prodding the teen in the arm playfully. Harry'd forced himself to ignore the twins' humor, focusing in stead on a plan to obtain Helga Hufflepuff's cup.

The rest of his day had been spent talking to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks about where possible locations that Voldemort would want to keep something hidden. He hadn't told them, of course, what exactly he was looking for, but the werewolf had guessed easily enough. After all, Harry hadn't been exactly bright in asking Remus to bring him books on horcruxes. He was still cursing himself for that mistake.

Lupin, being the patient and understanding man that he was, had understood not to ask Harry questions, and though Harry's quest was most obvious, they still spoke as if the older man was ignorant of Harry's goals.

Harry rolled over once more, growling in frustration. He simply couldn't stop thinking. How was he supposed to sleep with his mind running at two-hundred miles an hour? Sighing, he sat up in the dark room, defeated.

Grabbing his glasses and shoving them a bit too forcefully onto his nose, he padded in his bare feet out to the hall, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well have a snack and do a bit of extra research. He couldn't stand not doing something in his waking hours. He liked to be occupied.

The young wizard reached the kitchen and the candles above in the hanging lamps flickered on. Kreacher was rummaging around in his cabinet. He'd stolen back a few more Black heirlooms, no doubt. At hearing the slide of Harry's feet on the wood, the gnarled elf started and turned around with a scowl.

"What's dirty master Potter doing up at this hour?" Kreacher asked with a groan.

"Don't call me dirty," Harry muttered absently.

"I didn't say nothing like that, Master," Kreacher replied lowly, grumbling afterwards: "But he is dirty. Filthy muggle-love in poor Mistress's home."

Harry ignored the elf's pointless ramblings and sat down at the table. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching pain cut through his forehead and he was no longer looking at the scraped surface of the kitchen table, but down at the placid face of Severus Snape. A fury cut through him, and only part of it was his own emotion.

A high, cold voice cut through his mind. Was it coming from his own lips? No, it was Voldemort speaking. He was having another vision.

"Have you found nothing?" Tom hissed lethally, narrowing his red eyes at Snape, whose expression remained stony.

"No, my Lord," the potions master replied. "I've never heard of anything like this. I need more time to research it-"

"You've been given five days!" Voldemort snapped. "How is this not enough time to research. Are you studying this as thoroughly as you tell me? What are you hiding, Severus?" His tone was low and dangerous.

"I hide nothing from you, my Lord," Snape answered dutifully. "This is simply unheard of magic. And I was not there to witness the incident, so I am running of very little information."

"I've already explained it to you," the Dark Lord retorted, "Numerous times. The boy touched me and my body was no longer the one you see before you. I was, to put in the most crude way possible, normal. You tell me that something so distinct cannot be found in my entire library or yours?"

"My Lord," Severus began carefully, bowing his head slightly, "Though at first glance this seems to be simple magic, at further research it is extremely complex. Perhaps it could have been an illusionary charm, such as a powerful glamour, but you said that you could feel the changes physically, which means a glamour would have been impossible." He took a breath, shifted his position, and continued. "It could have been some sorted of human transfiguration. However, I've known Potter for many years and he has never been capable of such magic. Granger might possibly have been able to cast such a spell, but as you tell me, she was restrained and wandless at the time, and none of them know wandless magic as far as I know."

"Well then extend your knowledge!" Voldemort snarled, whipping out his wand quickly and pointing it directly at Snape's throat. The Death Eater looked unfazed. "Find out why they were at Hogwarts. What has Potter been doing? What has he been training? Find this out for me or you will be punished!"

"I no longer have contact with anyone from the Order. They would turn me into the Ministry should I come near them or Potter. Since the death of the Headmast-"

"You are on of my Death Eaters!" Voldemort roared conclusively, as if this statement explained everything. "Contacts are no longer necessary. Find out a way to monitor Harry Potter. No excuses. Find reason to disobey me and I will not take it lightly." His wand twitched a bit in his hand. He longed to cast the Cruciatus, merely because he was so frustrated with his lack of answers or explanations. However, it would not do to weaken Severus at the moment. If Severus returned with no information once more, perhaps then he would torture him.

Snape nodded brusquely and bowed. "As you wish, my Lord."

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was on the floor and Kreacher was staring at him disdainfully. Apparently he had passed out.

Bloody visions.

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Voldemort paced back and forth in his quarters. The flicker of the fireplace silhouetted him, separating his figure from the lush fabrics of his room and making him seem a ghost. Wrinkles in his forehead were deep and he furrowed his brows in thought and, though he would not consciously admit it, confusion and fear.

If even Severus, one of his most intelligent followers, could not find an explanation for the result of his touching Harry Potter, then this was truly a formidable magic. And, if Potter knew such magic, how much else did the boy know that he did not? This would not do. He could not let such a child overcome him. He could not allow him to have an advantage.

It simply would not do.

If Severus could not find answers, perhaps it was once again time for the Dark Lord to take matters into his own hands. It wouldn't be difficult to find out where the young wizard was. Their mental connection had grown strong. It was pathetically simple for him to slip into Harry's mind.

This time he would not have his Death Eaters accompany him. They did not even need to be informed. They'd just incessantly bother him anyway. It was as if they thought him to be a child, always needing protection. It would be easy enough to do it on his own, without the hassle of followers.

Polyjuice potion or even a strong glamour would do the trick. He could lure Harry away from his friends and torture him until the boy admitted to him what magic he had cast in the courtyard. Tom was sure it had been some sort of spell. As soon as he'd touched Potter's throat he'd felt his skin shiver at the touch. It was a harsh tingling that was close to the sensation of being burned. The only explanation for that could be magic. A spell.

Maybe he would touch the boy again. The contact had been so sudden and quick before that he'd no had time to really study the occurrence.

It was possible, of course, that extended touch could result in some kind of injury; either to Potter or Voldemort himself. But he was not worried about that. He'd come back from death more than once. He would not be done in just by touching someone.

He ran spidery fingers over the smooth top of his head, taking a hissing breath through the slits on his face that acted as a nose. He wasn't very sure if Potter ever parted with his friends, but it wouldn't be that difficult to lure him away, if only for a moment. By the time he had his hands on the boy his friends would be unable to do anything.

He wondered why he didn't just kill the boy then, fleetingly, but his thoughts came back to him soon after that contemplation. He had to sate his curiosity; and to kill Harry now, while both armies of the war were still being built, would be anti-climactic. It would make an impact, but not as great a one as if he killed him right at the brink of battle.

No, he had other plans than immediate destruction. He wanted to go slowly. The more time he took, the more his enemies suffered. It was simple enough logic.

He pinched the corners of his eyes and pictured the incident of the courtyard once more before he relinquished his ponderings and set off towards his study, focusing on seeing where Harry Potter was going next.

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Harry yawned lethargically, waking up for the second time that day in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He lifted his head and felt something tug at it. His cheek was stuck to the page of a book. Peeling the paper away from his skin, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Ron was already at the table, shoveling eggs into his endless pit of a stomach. He glanced up at hearing the crackle of paper and smiled with his eyes, considering his mouth was a bit full.

"I figuwed you nedded da sweep," Ron said through his mouthful of eggs. "So I dinnint wake you."

"I did need the sleep," Harry agreed, stretching his back. It had gotten cramped form the odd sleeping position. "I've been having a terrible time getting to bed."

"So you came down to the kitchen?"

Harry turned at the voice. Hermione was standing in the kitchen's doorway. She was dressed in her good robes. Seeing Harry's bemused look, Hermione smiled. "We're going out," she said, looking positively thrilled.

Harry looked at her dumbly. Was now really ton time to waltz about town and go shopping?

"Oh it's not as if it's not for a reason." Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're going to Diagon Alley. We've got to get some things from the Apothecary, among other places."

"Why're you looking so thrilled to go to the Apothecary?" Harry inquired. "I didn't know you liked potions that much."

Hermione crossed her arms in mock impatience, but Ron beat her to speaking.

"I think she's just happy to get out of this place, mate," he said, prodding his toast with a fork. "I'm with her on that one."

Ron had taken a bit more to speaking after their visit to Hogwarts. It seemed that all he needed was to see the old school one last time so that he could get over it. Harry and Hermione were grateful for the change. It was awfully disturbing to live with such a quiet Weasley.

Harry nodded. It would be nice to get out of Grimmauld Place. He hadn't been to Diagon Alley in quite a while. It'd be nice to have one fairly normal day. "When do we leave?" he asked.

"As soon as you've eaten breakfast," Hermione answered, walking across the kitchen and smiling at Kreacher, who promptly turned his expression into an even deeper scowl and scurried away quickly as if he feared attack.

Hermione looked crestfallen.

"I don't see why you expect anything else out of him, 'Mione," Ron said shrugging.

"I feel so sorry for him!" she cried out, making both Ron and Harry shake their heads in amused disbelief.

"No need to feel sorry for him," Harry stated, glancing at the door from which Kreacher had taken his leave. "He's bloody crazy, that one."

Ron snorted in agreement.

Hermione frowned and looked affronted, stalking out of the room pointedly and sticking her nose up into the air.

Ron stared after her. "She's about as crazy as that little monster! Pitying him! She's mental."

Harry grinned and nodded, grabbing a plate of food and digging in.

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**Lalalalalala…….. nothing much happened here, but it's setting stuff up, so I suppose it was a necessary chapter.**

**Toodleoo for now!**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	7. Criterion

_What if I wanted to break  
Laugh it all off in your face  
What would you do?  
What if I fell to the floor?  
Couldn't take this anymore  
What would you do,do,do?_

_Come break me down  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you_

_What if I wanted to fight  
Beg for the rest of my life  
What would you do?  
You say you wanted more  
What are you waiting for?  
I'm not running from you_

_Come break me down  
Bury me, bury me  
I'm finished with you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you_

_I tried to be someone else  
But nothing seemed to change  
I know now, this is who I really am inside  
Finally found myself  
Fighting for a chance  
I know now, this is who I really am_

_Come break me down  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you,you, you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you_

_Come break me down  
Break me down  
Break me down_

_What if I wanted to break?_

_-30 Seconds to Mars – The Kill_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 7- Criterion

Severus Snape trekked slowly up the alabaster steps of Malfoy Manor, his ebony hair twisting around his head in the soft wind. His face was chilled and blank as ever as he stared at the mahogany doors for a moment, seemingly contemplating something. With one arm he grabbed his heavy traveling cloak and pulled it more closely around him. With the other, he rapped solidly on the door three times and waited until it was answered by no other than Draco Malfoy.

The boy was tall and lean and the days had worn on him. He face was narrow and much bonier than before. He'd grown pale and weary, and his silver eyes stared at nothing, as if he was blind. Severus felt some amount of pity for him. The young Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark to sate the Dark Lord, but he had not wanted to; not in the least.

The potions master mustered a sort of half smile for his godson and nodded curtly at him. Draco stepped aside to allow him entrance.  
"Why are you answering the door, Draco?" Severus inquired as he stepped onto the gorgeous marble floors. It had been a long time since he'd been here.  
"All the elves have gone," Draco murmured softly, shutting the front doors. "Father let them go when I was twelve. I don't know why, though."

Severus nodded. Had it really been five years since he'd set foot in Malfoy manor? Yes, it had really been that long. He asked the teen where his father was and the platinum blonde pointed towards the study to the left of the winding staircase of the entranceway.

Snape followed the slim finger and stepped softly onto the plush carpet of the illustrious study. Lucius Malfoy definitely had impeccable taste—the kind of taste that could only come with money. He smirked at the sight of his old friend in an armchair, reading glasses perched upon his slender nose and staring down into a book. The elder Malfoy never admitted to needing glasses. Only his family and Severus knew of this imperfection.

Said Malfoy looked up, his gray eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing Snape. A smile curled onto his pale face and he set his book down. He rose gracefully and crossed the room in three swift steps. His long blonde hair was tied back and it cascaded down his back. He tilted his head and opened his arms in welcome that was an uncustomary display of kindness for a Malfoy.

"Old friend," he practically purred. "What could possibly have brought you here?"

Snape clasped his hands on either shoulder of Lucius briefly and he followed the man into the study to sit. Crossing his legs, Lucius stared at Severus expectantly.

"I'm here to talk about something regarding the lion," the raven-haired man said cryptically.

Immediately, Lucius' face turned serious and he stood, glancing around at the fireplace, mirror above it, and the doorway in quick succession. He removed his ebony wand from his staff and flicked the snake-headed stick at the fireplace. The flames died the wood went cold. He then cast a silencing charm on the door and a disillusionment on the mirror. Sliding the wand back into its holster, his sat back down smoothly. "Speak," he said simply.

"Ah, so he watches you through the mirror now, I see," Severus stated, observing the antique above the hearth.

Lucius nodded. "It's a looking glass of sorts. He uses it to check in on me," he muttered with a grimace. "You think that after all the loyalty I've shown him he would trust me a sliver more than he does, but alas." He shook his head in dismissal.

"The Dark Lord trusts no one but himself," Snape answered, looking at the blonde and steepling his fingers under his chin. "Now, about Potter."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. They deduced long ago to refer to Harry Potter as the lion, deeming it fitting. Only the two of them new of this code. Not even Lucius' wife was in on the secret, as they were not sure of her true loyalties. Draco remained uninformed due to his age and poor Occlumency skills.

They'd established, after many quiet and secretive battles of mentality, that both Lucius and Severus were not truly loyal to the Dark Lord. Severus had stayed in the ranks for the sake of Albus Dumbledore and the idea of future redemption. Lucius had remained out of fear and the necessity to protect his family.

Neither of them liked Harry Potter. In fact, they were both severely annoyed with the brat and regarded him with the utmost distaste; but they did have an unspoken confidence in the young wizard; a confidence that one day Harry would defeat Voldemort and save them all. As such, they'd worked for years to protect the boy, and they were confident that their efforts had not yet been noticed by their master.

"I am sure you are aware that the Dark Lord decided to pay Potter a visit," Severus began. Lucius nodded almost imperceptibly. "At the encounter, a most peculiar thing happened. He has not discussed this incident with anyone but those who were present and myself." Lucius nodded again. This meant that he would not be able to admit to being aware of the situation. Simple enough.

"I do not understand what happened," Snape said, frowning, "But the Dark Lord has requested... or ordered, rather, that I deduce the reasoning behind the situation. Apparently, from what he has told me, when he touched Potter his own body underwent a sort of transformation."

The elder Malfoy twitched slightly. This sounded most intriguing. "Is the transformation still in effect?"

"No. That's the most perplexing part. As soon as he was no longer in physical contact with the boy, he returned to normal." Severus rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "The Dark Lord is furious. He believes that Potter has learned an ancient magic of some sort; one that the Dark Lord himself is not even familiar with. For all I know, that may be the case."

Lucius turned towards the lifeless fireplace in thought. This was not good. A threatened Voldemort was a dangerous one. He would most likely attempt to attack Potter out of fury for his lack of knowledge. That simply would not do. It was not yet time. "Explain this transformation to me," he prompted, turning back to the other wizard.

"From what I heard, the Dark Lord became what he referred to as 'normal'," Severus stated lamely, raising his palm in a sort of shrug. "He said that he'd had hair, and nose, and skin like the rest of us."

Lucius couldn't help but chuckle. The Dark Lord with a nose? Unthinkable!

"I do not think that Potter did this to him on purpose," Snape continued. "I know the boy well enough to understand that he is not capable of such magic. At least not purposefully. I believe that the boy is most likely just as confused as the Dark Lord."

"If the boy does not know what happened, how are we to find out ourselves?" Malfoy questioned, looking pensive.

"Potter was at Hogwarts when this took place," Severus responded, shifting in his seat. "I know for a fact that he no longer attends the school, so he must have been there for a purpose. Perhaps if we find out that purpose, we can find out what happened to cause this. We know full well that he and the Dark Lord have some sort of connection. Though the Dark Lord speaks very little of it, I've gathered enough to know that it's mostly mental. Perhaps the boy accidentally breached the physical aspects of the bond."

Lucius stroked his smooth chin and sighed. "How do you suggest we enter Hogwarts unnoticed? Dumbledore may be gone, but it is still very well protected."

Severus chuckled, earning a surprised look from his comrade. "I never said that we would go as ourselves," he whispered, a glint in his dark eyes.

Lucius' eyes gleamed. For a moment, he felt as if he and the sallow man before him were once again schoolboys, planning some wicked scheme to trick the professors of Hogwarts.

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Harry's shoes clapped against the stone ground, inaudible within the chatters of the crowds of witches and wizards around them. Hermione had cast a Notice Me Not charm on him so that he could walk alongside them without being bothered or easily spotted. Only if someone was looking directly for Harry would they be able to see him, and seeing as absolutely no one would expect the Boy-Who-Lived to be wandering idly down Diagon Alley, they figured this was foolproof enough.

They stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies first and Hermione lingered back as the boys "Oohed" and "Awwed" and rolled her eyes in amusement as they poked and prodded all the brooms they could find. After they had their fill, they dropped by Flourish and Blotts and it was the boys' turn to stand back with their arms crossed impatiently as Hermione breathed excitedly over numerous books.

Finally, they found themselves at the Apothecary and Hermione fussed over ingredients and pre-made potions, searching for the necessary additions to the potions they would need for the rest of their journey. Healing potions, polyjuice, and other dark magic inhibitors.

When she was finally done, Harry gave her the necessary money to purchase the items and they left, chattering happily to one another. The relief of being out of their house at Grimmauld Place and in a familiar area from their childhood was relaxing and almost satisfying. They felt happy and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

"Let's stop to get ice cream," Ron suggested.

"Is food all you ever think about, Ronald?" Hermione chided, grinning at the redhead.

Ron nodded decisively. "A wizard has to eat. It's necessity, Hermione."

Harry smiled at his two best friends and followed them to the ice-cream parlor. He stepped aside to let his friends enter and started up the stairs himself, caught short when a tiny hand grabbed his shoulder. Rattled, Harry turned to see a little old lady staring triumphantly up at him. She had a maroon shawl over her shoulders and her wispy gray hair was pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. She smiled and Harry cringed. She was missing most of her teeth and the ones that remained were glossy and yellow.

"Um.. can I help you?" Harry asked, trying to tug his arm away.

"Certainly!" she squeaked giddily. "You see, you already have helped me." She eyed him wickedly. "By casting a Notice Me Not Charm on yourself, you've made it so that when I apparate you away, no one will notice." Her toothless grin widened and Harry felt a strange sense of confused fear. Why was an old lady wanting to kidnap him? He tried to pull away again, but her grip was disturbingly strong. He felt a cold grip of panic before the lady turned on the spot and the disapparated.

Harry hated the feeling. It was like being pulled through a pipe. It was practically as bad as traveling through portkey. They stopped suddenly and Harry, dazed, staggered on his feet. When the world stopped spinning, he looked around him. The old lady was staring at him with a sort of hateful but victorious edge. He groaned when he realized where he was.

It was the graveyard from the Triwizard Tournament.

It looked different now. It was daylight and the graveyard was flooded with clear sunlight. The grass didn't echo an eerie blue-gray like before and there was no mist floating above the headstones. That didn't make the place any less chilling. Harry shivered and looked back at the woman, who, he realized with an unsurprised horror, was beginning to grow taller, her flesh bubbling.

It wasn't unexpected when Lord Voldemort slowly appeared before him, but he still felt sick with fear and confusion, nonetheless. He felt a stab of anger and venom.

"I didn't know you like to cross-dress, Tom," He said tauntingly, knowing it was not best to provoke him, but not really caring.

Voldemort's smirk changed to a nasty frown and he waved his hand, transfiguring the old lady's dress back to his ghostly black robes.

"Well since the muggle is now dead, I didn't see that she would need her garb any longer," Tom hissed, the slits he had for a nose wrinkling with disdain.

Harry frowned. "That's how you fix everything isn't it?" Harry growled, "Kill anything that moves."

The Dark Lord did not deem the comment worthy of a response. Instead, he began to walk around the graveyard, his strut reminiscent of the night three years ago. Harry watched him cautiously, drawing his wand and preparing for whatever the man was about to do. Why had he brought no Death Eaters this time? Harry did not need to look around the brightly lit graveyard to know that they were alone. Was this some sort of trick?

"I decided it was unnecessary to bring my followers today," Riddle said to no one in particular, as if he'd read Harry's very thoughts. Perhaps he had. "They just get in the way, and this is between you and me alone." He ended the sentence darkly, turning to glare into Harry's emerald eyes.

Harry's thoughts wandered back to the day in the courtyard before he could help himself, forgetting that Voldemort was still staring into his eyes. The deepening of the dark wizard's scowl was all the confirmation Harry needed. Voldemort wanted to know what had happened at Hogwarts. That made two of them.

"So, Harry," Tom purred, beginning to slowly circle the teen. "Care to tell me what it was that happened that day? I'm _dying_ to know."

Harry swallowed and raised his wand. Voldemort sliced his hand through the air and shook his head. "That will not be necessary. I just want to talk to you."

"You never just want to talk," Harry retorted spitefully, glaring bitterly at the circling snake.

Riddle seemed to consider this for a moment. "True, my tendency is for more physical means, most often," he answered, trying to speak in an air of indifference, "But I too have to ability to speak my thoughts instead of acting them out, Harry. I trust you can remain civilized in a conversation?"

Harry snorted. "Civilized? There's no civilized when it comes to you. You're a monster." He tensed when the Dark Lord stopped pacing.

"I do not appreciate that comment," Tom hissed. "As I've said before, you are quite rude. You've no way with manner at all."

"I save my manners for people who actually deserve them."

Voldemort shot an icy glance at Harry before walked slowly towards the young man. Harry, in turn, began to retreat, walking backwards as if being cornered by some sort of prowling beast. "I don't know what happened that day," Harry said, hoping to Merlin that Voldemort would believe him and just let him be. "I already said that. I've got no idea what that was."

"You are a liar, Harry Potter," the serpentine man snapped, still advancing upon the shuddering boy. "You cast some sort of magic."

"I did not!" Harry shouted, aggravated by the man's belligerence. "I know as much as you do, okay? I didn't cast a spell or take a potion or anything like that! I'd say the same thing under bloody veritaserum!"

"I'd be willing to test that theory."

Harry paled. He shouldn't have said that. Being under the influence of veritaserum in the company of Lord Voldemort was not the most welcoming of ideas.

Voldemort let out a dry chuckle and flicked his wand slightly, sending Harry careening back into a familiar statue. He closed his eyes as he waited for the arms of the object to trap him once more, but Riddle seemed to find repetition unnecessary. Harry couldn't move anyway. He must have been in a body bind of some sort.

Tom looked at Harry for a moment, apparently considering something. Harry could have sworn he saw the same flicker of indecision he'd seen before pass over the garnet eyes again. Voldemort was deciding on whether or not to touch him again.

Harry was torn. His green eyes darted around the graveyard. He wanted to know what happened as well, but was it worth the pain or close proximity to the Dark Lord? His scar was already burning, but he'd come accustomed to it, so he ignored it as much as he could.

Maybe it wouldn't even happen again. Maybe before it had just been some sort of fluke. Maybe their eyes had momentarily deceived them.

Harry knew his self-convincing was futile, but he could see Tom going through the same struggle. They stared each other down, daring a decision to be made. Voldemort's eyes hardened and his wand arm rose infinitesimally. Harry felt his throat clench as he wondered childishly if Voldemort would grab him there again.

Instead, the man slowly raised his wandless hand. It practically creaked upwards, moving at such a leisurely and hesitant pace that Harry found himself wishing that the man would just get it over with. Finally, the pale, spidery hand floated next to his cheek, hovering on the precipice of contact.

Harry was shocked to feel warmth emanating from the fingers. He'd thought for a while that Voldemort must have been cold blooded. Warmth seemed all too human. It was discomfiting.

Voldemort overcame his apparent indecision and rested his fingertips lightly on Harry's flushed cheek. Within the breath of a second, he felt his body shiver and his eyes snapped open. Had he closed them? He surveyed the expression of the boy in front of him, painfully aware of where his own fingertips met the flesh of Harry's cheek.

Harry's eyes were wide and staring, shocked and disappointed. Tom's eyes moved to his hand, which was tan and flushed once more. He couldn't believe it. This time he couldn't resist the temptation to run his hand through his hair. It was soft and short, just thick enough to entangle his fingers. He marveled at what he was experiencing. Harry almost seemed to be sharing his astonishment, watching silently as Tom touched his face, feeling his long nose and eyebrows.

Tom shivered, unsure of the emotions now running through him. Shock, anxiety, curiosity, and longing. Feeling this side of himself, he felt utterly lamentable about his true form. Was the snake-like visage who he really was? Or was this his real face? He was uncertain of himself now, and that infuriated him.

Harry was just as dazed. The man who touched his face was not the Voldemort he knew. This was someone else; and they looked frightened and unsure. The dark eyes refused to meet his own as they stared at the man's free hand. His palm was stretched up at his face and he was inspecting his flesh, flexing his fingers experimentally as if doing so would turn them back to normal.

This was completely surreal.

Harry hadn't even realized that the body bind was off of him. Voldemort had been so distracted by his newfound appearance that he'd dropped it unknowingly. For some reason, Harry didn't fear him anymore. The fear had left with the read eyes and domineering sneer. No all he saw was a man. He knew, of course, that Lord Voldemort was behind that façade, and he still felt the venom that accompanied that, but somehow his curiosity overrode that emotion.

Tom wasn't paying attention, so it was easy for Harry to reach up and touch the wizard's face. Voldemort started and his eyes darted up and locked with Harry's. Harry didn't know why he'd done it. Perhaps he'd just wanted to ascertain if the man before him was actually real. As soon as he done it, though, he regretted it. Appalled by his act, Harry turned away. He and Tom recoiled at the same time, both drawing back with looks of mingled horror and disgust.

Harry saw himself staring once more at Voldemort as he always had been in his life—inhuman and cold. The confusion was hidden behind ruby eyes and contempt had replaced it.

Harry's stomach was in a tumult. He felt like he was going to throw up. He grimaced and clenched his fist. They stared at each other for another minute, warring with their eyes and thoughts.

Then, Voldemort turned on the spot and vanished with a crack.

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**Btw, 'criterion' means a rule or principle for evaluating or testing something. Just in case you didn't know. 'Acumen' from chapter six means keen insight; shrewdness. And 'taction' means the act of touching or contact. Thought you all might want to know that. **

**Anyways, there you go! Poor boys. They're so confused! Mwahaha**

**This is the longest chapter yet, I believe. And if you can't tell by now, I'm pro Snape and pro Malfoy. Most of the time, at least. No worries though. I promise that no Ron-bashing and no Dumbledore-bashing accompanies my like of the Slytherin. I find Ron to be adorable and I greatly respect Dumbledore. Hermione and Lupin and Sirius are safe too, I swear. As for Ginny….. I promise you nothing.**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	8. Fixation

_I can't meet  
Losing sleep over this  
No I can't  
And now I cannot stop pacing  
Give me a few hours  
I'll have this all sorted out  
If my mind would just stop racing_

_Cause I cannot stand still  
I can be this unsturdy  
This cannot be happening_

_This is over my head  
But underneath my feet  
Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat  
And everything will be back to the way that it was  
I wish that it was just that easy_

_Cause I'm waiting for tonight  
Been waiting for tomorrow  
I'm somewhere in between  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream_

_Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in  
Dont be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again  
I don't want to run away from this  
I know that I just don't need this_

_Cause I cannot stand still  
I can be this unsturdy  
This cannot be happening_

_Cause I'm waiting for tonight  
Been waiting for tomorrow  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real just a dream_

_-Lifehouse – Somewhere in Between_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 8- Fixation

Harry had apparated back to Diagon Alley to find his friends searching the streets frantically for him. Their panic eased at sighting him, but quickly resurfaced on their red faces once more as they saw the horrified countenance he bore.

"Harry, what happened?!" Hermione cried, her hair mussed as if she'd just battled a hurricane.

"We thought maybe the Notice Me Not charm had gone wrong and you were completely invisible or something," Ron said, making a face as he remembered Hermione's panic when she thought she had performed a spell incorrectly.

Harry shook his head. "Charm was fine," he rasped, finding his throat to be uncomfortably dry.

Hermione rest her hands tentatively on Harry's shoulders in an act of comfort and worry. "What happened?" she asked again, softer this time.

Harry swallowed roughly and looked around the deserted alleyway they'd come to. He wasn't sure if the charm was even on place anymore. He didn't care. Let people see him.

"Mate…" Ron floated before Harry's view, his freckled face nervous and sympathetic.

Seeing the redhead somehow snapped Harry out of his daze and his voice deepened, strengthening a bit. "I can't tell you here. Let's go back to the house. I'll tell you there."

His friends nodded, exchanging hesitant glances with each other as they took Harry's arms and disapparated to Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher let out a displeased snort when the trio came through the front door of the house of Black. He was currently having a staring contest with the gnarled coat rack by the stairs. The elf was staring so vigorously at the object that Ron actually stopped and looked at the coat rack for a moment as if expecting it to do something exciting. It remained immobile, ugly, and lifeless. Shaking his head, he followed Harry and Hermione into the kitchen.

Ron and Hermione sat down next to each other, leaning forward on their elbows and waiting for Harry to join them. Harry, however, opted to stand, feeling too fidgety at the moment to stop moving. Instead, he crossed his arms and shifted back and forth on the heels of his feet as if doing a little jig. His companions gave him mirrored looks of concern.

"Voldemort kidnapped me," Harry stated bluntly, pursing his lips and speeding up his dance, his hips swaying ridiculously. He didn't seem to notice what a spectacle he was making of himself. Nor did he notice Ron and Hermione staring at him as if he'd sprouted another head.

"What?!" Ron spluttered indignantly, certain that Harry was just pulling his leg. Hermione looked just as affronted.

Harry stopped moving for a moment, but he refused to look his friends in the face, the image of the man-- _Voldemort_ still burning on his retinas. "He was an old lady," Harry said, "And she took me to the graveyard from fourth year and then she was him and he touched me and then he was different and then he left and I came back." He looked at his friends, eyebrows raised and waiting for a response.

The two at the table looked as if they had just been slapped in the face with a fish. Their jaws hung open and their expressions were disbelieving and confused.

"Wait… and old lady took you to a graveyard?" Ron asked, severely perplexed.

"No, Voldemort did!" Harry corrected. He'd already explained it. Why were they so confused?

"But you said an old lady took you there," Hermione said slowly, her walnut eyes regarding him with disturbed caution.

"Voldemort _was_ the old lady," Harry replied, throwing his hands up into the air as if the statement was obvious.

Ron quirked his head to the side. "You-Know-Who's an old lady?"

Harry tugged at his hair in frustration. "No, he used polyjuice potion or something."

"Well why didn't you just say that?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms in a huff.

Harry glared at her, looking as offended as he would if she would have slapped him.

"Okay…" Hermione said, composing her thoughts. "So Voldemort took you to a graveyard. What graveyard?"

"The one... the one where Cedric was killed," Harry responded, his voice heavy with the memory.

The other two frowned. "Were there Death Eaters there? Did they torture you?" Ron asked, looking sickened.

Harry shook his head and pulled out a chair, finally giving in to the temptation of sitting down. His legs suddenly felt very sore and tired. "No. No Death Eaters. It was just me and him." He rubbed the back of his neck as goose-bumps popped up on his skin. The very thought of the graveyard made him uncomfortable. "And he didn't hurt me."

"He didn't hurt you?" Hermione looked shocked, as did Ron. "But, that's all he's tried to do. What did he want if it wasn't to hurt you?"

Harry frowned and ran a slim hand through his thick hair, grazing the scar on his forehead as he did so. "He…" his voice caught in his throat.

"Harry," Hermione reached across the table and laid a small hand on the teen's arm. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know what had happened back that day at Hogwarts," Harry said, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Hermione's face was grim and pensive. "He didn't know what it was? I mean, of all people, you think he would be the one to…" She trailed off. Her brain had clicked into action. The boys could practically hear the gears whirring. Her eyes lit up and she stood. "Voldemort doesn't know that we're destroying the horcruxes!" she exclaimed excitedly.

The boys stared at her, bemused.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a chuckle, her bushy hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Isn't it obvious? Voldemort, a wizard with so many resources and minds at his disposal—there's no way he couldn't have figured out what happened in the courtyard."

Harry and Ron looked at her inquisitively. "But… he really didn't know," Harry said, "He was furious. He knows as much as we do."

Hermione shook her head, a triumphant smile on her face. "Not exactly," she chirped. "He probably looked through every possibility when trying to find out what happened. But there was one he didn't even consider checking; one that he has no idea we know about."

Ron's eyes widened and Harry whispered: "The horcruxes… you don't think?"

"I _do _think!" Hermione clapped her hands together, causing Ron to jump. "Harry, what happened when you were in that fog when we destroyed the diadem?"

Harry drug his mind back to that day, recalling how the diadem had exploded into a burning mist; a mist that had burned his skin… "The smoke went into my skin," he said breathlessly, both astounded and horrified as he realized what had happened.

Ron looked sick, but Hermione was thrilled. "This is unbelievable, Harry! This means that the soul fragment from the horcrux latched to you in its last moments. That must be what caused Voldemort to change when he touched you!"

"Hermione, how is that a good thing?" Ron asked, mortified. "Your smiling about the fact that part of V-voldemort's soul stuck to Harry! That's not something to smile about!"

"Wait… does that make me a horcrux?" Harry cried, reeling. No! That would be catastrophic!

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We'd already destroyed the horcrux. The soul fragment was probably so weak that even if it's still alive, it's just barely. It's not strong enough to be used as a horcrux anymore."  
"It's strong enough to do some things," Harry countered. "He touched me again in the graveyard. He changed again. It happened again. It happened again!" Harry felt that repeating himself would make the situation more real and stable; that it would make his point clear. "If it's powerful enough to transform Voldemort himself, who's to say if it's not strong enough to resurrect him?!"

Hermione wasn't swayed. She had a Luna-like expression on her face; dazed and thoughtful, without a care in the world. "I don't know. I'd have to do some research on horcrux transfers," she said, starting to pace, "But… we also need to figure out why the soul has the effect that it does. It doesn't do anything else, does it?"

"No, just this," Harry sighed, slouching. "As far as I know, at least."  
"Didn't he make the horcruxes when he was normal looking?" Ron asked, leaning back in his chair and glancing at Hermione for confirmation. It was Harry who confirmed it.

"Yeah, he made them before he tried to kill me; back when he still looked like a person. What about it?"

"Well wouldn't that mean that the soul fragment has the features of who he used to be and not who he is now?" Ron prompted, pulling at the zipper of his jacket.

"Ronald, that's brilliant!" Hermione cried, clasping her hands together, her excitement renewed. Ron blushed. "Harry, the soul is like a memory. When the soul comes into contact with Voldemort, it reverts him to what the soul believe he should be. The soul grew old as well, but it didn't undergo the resurrection three years ago. That means-"

"That the man he turns into when he touches me is who he would have been if he hadn't found out about the prophecy," Harry finished darkly, a scowl on his face.

Hermione's face fell. "Yes, that must be it," she agreed. "Harry-"

"I'm going to bed," Harry said suddenly, standing and shoving clenched fists into his pockets.

"But it's only evening," Ron answered, his eyebrows knit together.

"I'm tired. I did kind of have a long day." Harry looked at his friends, waiting for them to contest that statement. They didn't, so he left the kitchen with a wave and a muttered "Good night".

When he reached his room, he flicked off the lights and tossed his glasses aside, not even bothering to change, leaving on his trainers and jacket and falling face-first into the bed.

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He was in that room again; the dark one with the flickering fireplace. Emerald eyes glanced around, swinging back undefined shapes and shadows and coming to rest on the figure in the doorway. They narrowed, the orange flicker of the firelight catching in the irises.

Harry didn't say anything. He just walked forward slowly, stopping next to the tall man who leaned in the door frame, staring longingly into the fire; dark eyes unnoticing of Harry's existence.

Harry followed the man's gaze and they both gazed at the twisting flames in silence, not content, but satisfied with the silence. Harry felt his chest ache with the desire to say something, but he was afraid if he spoke that the man would disappear.

He turned towards him again, startled to find dark eyes staring into his own. His heart thudded against his chest and he felt tempted to run away. Why was he afraid? He knew the man would not hurt him. So what did he fear?

The man's face was soft and unexpressive. He looked at Harry silently, unmoving and observant.

Harry licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the ones that bore into his very soul. He tried to swallow, but he couldn't, so he tried to speak instead. His voice came out in a throaty whisper. He hardly recognized it. The sound of it made him shiver as he croaked out the name he was dying to speak.

"Tom?"

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Harry shot up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He wiped off his forehead and rubbed his eyes, groping around for his glasses. He found them and slid the cold metal onto his face, cupping his mouth with his hands and groaning. His eyes fluttered closed and the image of Tom Riddle staring into his face flickered before them. He felt his stomach clench and he punched his pillow viciously, an unknown anger skewering him like a hot iron.

"What the FUCK?!" he screamed into the softness of his pillow, latching onto his covers with a death-grip. He let out a deep growl of exasperation and relaxed, lost of his previous energy.

He leaned back into his headboard and massaged his temples, staring through the darkness at the opposite wall. Maybe if he stared at it long enough it would explode. With this thought in mind, he continued to stare at the solid wood for the next three hours, questions racing through his mind as he tried to push them away with the focus of detonating Grimmauld Place's foundation.

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Severus Snape, cloaked and heavily hooded, stood lingering in the shadows of the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. The November snow floated down from the white sky and landed softly on his cloak, melting as soon and they touched the black fabric.

It was mid afternoon and the Hogwart's students were filling the small town like locusts. As such, he had cast a strong disillusionment charm on himself, keen not to be noticed, especially with the mind of his task at hand. His ebony eyes scanned the street from his inconspicuous spot, mouth set into a firm, determined line.

His eyes widened imperceptibly as he spotted his quarry, and he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his wand. They were heading towards the Shrieking Shack, a place easily hidden from the view of Hogsmeade. They were making this easy.

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Ginny wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and clung to Neville's arm with the intention of stealing the other Gryffindor's body heat. The elder student blushed modestly, but said nothing. Ever since they'd gone to the Yule Ball together, Ginny had no problem with clinging to him whenever she felt like it. Most people interpreted wrongly, of course, assuming that the two were dating. Though Neville had possibly considered the idea, Ginny thought of him as nothing more than a brother, since none of her real siblings were at Hogwarts any longer.

Neville knew it was only a matter of time before he became the Ron replacement, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed the young Weasley's company, and she was a great help in keeping Dumbledore's army going since Harry was gone.

Speaking of Dumbledore's army, where were the others? Ever since Dumbledore's death, the underground group had resurfaced. The Headmistress herself knew of their meetings, but she keenly kept her mouth shut, sometimes even distracting Filch when the meetings were held. Needless to say, it was loads of help when the person who ran the school didn't mind you were keeping a secret organization within it.

Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas were supposed to have met them in the courtyard so they could go to Hogsmeade. However, as the Gryffindor duo walked out into the snow, no one was there to greet them.

"Where d'you reckon they are?" Neville inquired, scratching his mousy brown hair curiously.

Ginny shrugged against his arm. "Maybe they already started towards the Shrieking Shack. That's where we're holding the meeting, after all," she said, her soft voice, echoing into the pale sky.

"Do you want to head there, then?" Neville asked. Ginny nodded and they began walking down to Hogsmeade, admiring the blanket of snow that covered the small buildings.

It had taken a lot of debating and reassurance to get the members of Dumbledore's Army to agree to use the Shrieking Shack as their meeting place when they couldn't use the Room of Requirement. Finally, Ginny had forcefully dragged them all there and made the petrified students sit inside the house until they finally gave up the belief that the shack was haunted.

The two walked through the streets of Hogsmeade, heading towards the trees and waving at passing students that they knew. They probably thought they were going somewhere into the forest to snog. Neville grinned and chuckled at the thought as they passed the Hog's Head. He felt Ginny tense and he looked down at her, thinking his chuckling had startled her.

"I was just-" he started.

"Oh no it wasn't your laughing," she corrected his thoughts quickly, tugging at his arm and speeding up.

"Ginny?" What're you doing?" Neville was practically being drug across the snow covered grass now. "Ginny?"

"Hush!" the witch whispered harshly. Then, leaning up, she said quietly, "I think someone's following us."

Neville, shocked but excited at the same time, nodded and hurried along with her. As soon as they were in the depths of the trees, they drew their wands and whirled around, side by side.

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Severus had seen the teens whispering closely to one another as they began to quicken their pace. Surely they couldn't have seen him? No, the disillusionment charm was far too powerful.

Tightening his grip around his wand, his quickened his pace as well, following the teens into the trees. He stopped short when he saw that they had turned, wielding their wands and scouring the woods frantically to spot their follower.

Snape was impressed, he had to admit, but he was only allowed this revelation for a short moment before Ginny saw his footprints in the snow and sent a stunning spell straight for him. He dove adeptly out of the way and shot off a silent stunning spell towards her. She dodged the first one, but hadn't noticed his second cast and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Neville let out an angry roar and began casting off body binds left and right. Jets of white light shot around the forest and Severus cursed under his breath, jumping behind a tree. Bloody hell, that Longbottom boy had definitely gotten better. He chuckled inwardly. The Death Eaters were in for a nasty shock when the time came to face these kids. He wondered idly how much Potter and his companions had progressed.

Waiting until Neville had tired himself, Severus spun from behind the tree, disillusionment charm still strong. Neville turned at the sound, but he wasn't fast enough to block the jet of red light as it soared towards him, and he too fell to the ground.

The ex-professor walked over the brittle leaves towards the fallen students, wincing when he saw that Ginny's head had landed on a rock in her fall. He quickly knelt down beside the unconscious redhead and lifted her head softly, inspecting it for wounds. A small bump protruded from the back of her skull. Sighing, he waved his wand over the spot, muttering a short incantation, and the bump shrunk away.

Likewise, he inspected Neville for injury, but, miraculously, the infamous klutz sported no bruise or bump.

Satisfied in his inspections, Severus withdrew two flasks from the pocket of his robes and uncorked them. Yanking out a few hairs from each teen's head, he dropped them into their respective flasks. Ginny's turned a vibrant orange. The wizard chuckled. How fitting. Neville's became a vivid pink. At this, Severus frowned. ...What? Shaking his head, he corked the vials and tossed them back into his robe pocket.

He then bound their arms and legs and tied them to the tree with silvery, shimmering rope. They wouldn't be able to get out of that without some help. He stood and looked at them for a minute, an unexpected wave of nostalgia swept over him and he swayed on his feet. The last moment before he left, he cast warming spells over the two teens. They'd freeze otherwise.

He shoved his wand into his robes and started heading out of the forest, his walk crisp and quick. They only had a limited amount of time now.

He swept behind the Hog's Head and another hooded figure looked up at his entrance. "Ah, Severus," he said smoothly, "Are we ready to go, then?"

Severus let the disillusionment drop and reached into his robe pockets, withdrawing the colorful flasks. "Lucius, they're unconscious and tied up, but I'm sure that they will not stay that way for long. We have a few hours at the most."

Lucius Malfoy pushed away from the stone wall and removed the hood of his cloak, letting his silver-blonde hair cascade down his back. "And who are these?" he asked, gesturing towards the vials.

"Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley," Severus answered, raising his palm up for Lucius to inspect the potions. "I say you should be the girl. After all, your hair is longer."

Lucius frowned. "That's absolutely no valid reason for me to be the female!" he stated, indignant. "Your hair is not far behind my length, if you wish to debate that point."  
Severus chuckled dryly. "You, my friend, possess much more grace than I. You, surely, would play the part much more efficiently," he finished smartly.

Lucius flushed and straightened. "Fine," he replied stiffly, reaching for the pink vial.

Snape retracted his hand. "No, I'm afraid_ that's_ Longbottom's."

Lucius stared down at the hot pink liquid disbelievingly. "You lie."

"Sadly, no," Severus said with a smirk. "I always knew him to be a bit light on his feet."

The two men snickered and Lucius grabbed the orange glass and uncorked it as Severus did the same with the other. They were about to swallow the contents when the potions master raised his hand and muttered: "Wait." He reached into his pockets an drew out his wand. "Clothing," he explained at Lucius' impatient look.

He flicked his thin wrist and their heavy cloaks changed to school robes and Gryffindor scarves.

Lucius grimaced. "Oh, this is downright cruel," he hissed.

Severus looked at his own clothes and nodded in silent agreement. Then, without another word, they down the contents of the polyjuice potions.

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**Ohmygoodness where's Voldie-poo? Don't worry, I promise he'll be in the next chappie. In fact, he's most of the next chappie, along with the rest of Severus and Lucius' escapade in Hogwarts. I'm going to have loads of fun with that.**

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**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

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	9. Pretension

**MikoTaijiya: **You listen to the songs when you read the chapters? That's awesome! That's exactly what I do when I write themI make sure to listento the chapter song when I read through it when I'm done. It helps me correct the mood and lines to the way I want them to sound.

**A/N: **Sorry if there are some typos in the chapters, guys. I tend to not read through the chapters to actually correct them until later. Sometimes I miss a few things in my initial edit. I tend to be brain dead once I finish a chapter because I've most likely been writing for a few hours straight at the time. I'll try and go back through the other chapters when I get a chance and fix the errors.

**A/N 2:** Once again, any suggestions for plot twists or something you want to see are welcome. Main plot is already developed, but little side things are always fun to add.

Enjoy!

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_Is this the start of it?  
Has this become a part of it?  
Maybe we should've slowed down  
it was the taste of it,  
and this is how we wasted it.  
Maybe we'll get it back somehow_

_It made me furious,  
You said that if we bury this.  
Never could dig up the past,  
I couldn't handle it  
I thought I could dismantle it.  
Maybe some things weren't meant to last._

_Kids of the frozen front range,  
Carry the message if I fall.  
Tell them we're moving on  
sorting out who our enemies are._

_I've seen it, you say I don't believe it  
it's either or..._

_Tell me it's over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go_

_You've got the upper hand  
wrapped tight around my neck again.  
And I can't get the words out.  
If you were listening  
you'd hear the voice or reasoning  
telling you to walk away from this somehow._

_Kids of the frozen front range  
Carry the message if I fall  
Tell them we're moving on  
Sorting out who our enemies are_

_I need this, you can't deny you feel it  
it's either or..._

_Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this...  
Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go_

_Okay in the first degree,  
there's nothing wrong with me._

_o.k. in the first degree  
there's nothing wrong _

_Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this...  
Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go_

_Okay in the first degree,  
there's nothing wrong with me._

_o.k. in the first degree  
there's nothing wrong _

_-Meese – The Start of It_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 9- Pretension

Tom Marvolo Riddle was currently sitting in his armchair in his quarters, head resting on his fist and blood-red eyes staring unblinkingly at the dark walls. Every now and then, his left eye would twitch, but that was all the movement he allowed himself.

Severus had left the manor to try and find books in the darkest of magical corners of London, hoping to find some answer to the question looming over Voldemort's "predicament", as it were. As such, Tom would have gladly berated Lucius for his incompetence, but alas, the elder Malfoy had stated that he had business at the Ministry that day, and Ministry ties were those which the Dark Lord was not yet willing to sever.

He sighed, a sound more like a hiss, and allowed himself to blink once; slowly. The blink refreshed his vision and he was unwillingly knocked out of his impatient stupor. Frowning, he lowered a pale, spidery hand to the arm of his chair, stretching his neck and taking in a deep breath.

He'd had a dream last night. It was a strange one. He was in the form of his agreeably more handsome self, and he stood in a dark room lit only by a solitary fireplace. He leaned in the doorway of the room, unable to move his gaze even as he became aware that he was not alone. When he had finally been able to move, he turned his head to find none other than Harry Potter staring at him. After what seemed to be a strained moment, the boy had spoken a word that had sent an unwelcome chill down Voldemort's spine.

He had said "Tom".

It wasn't as if the brat hadn't called him that before, but it was different that time. That time, there had been something else in the boy's voice. It wasn't laced with the normal hate or passionate anger, but etched with a frightened curiosity and intrigued confusion.

He'd woken up after that. That's what he got for succumbing to the demon of sleep.

Riddle shook his head and tried to clear it, wondering if the simple physical movement would shatter all his contemplations. Sadly, it wasn't that simple.

He had the gnawing feeling that his dream from the previous night was not his alone. It was not only shared in the realm of the dream, but in reality. The indescribable tug of his connection to Potter was definite when he had awoken.

This, as many things did these days, perplexed him. Never before had they met in the mental realm. They'd only ever been able to see through each others eyes and emotions. What was this strange new liaison they had formed?

The Dark Lord lifted his thin hand and inspected it lazily. He let it drift slowly towards the oak table to his right and slid his fingertips over the smooth wood.

What would it feel like to do this with my other hand? He wondered curiously. What would if feel like to touch this wood with the flesh that Potter gave me?

Had Harry really given him that other skin? The teen hadn't done it on purpose, but he had, in a way, been the means of the transformation. So, once again, it had been Harry Potter who had left Lord Voldemort dazed and confused, unsure of his power and his humanity. Twice now, Harry had shattered the foundation of his being; and here he sat, in the room of his underground manor, thoughts driven by the memories of those moments when he had touched Harry—confused, angry, and desolate.

That afternoon in the graveyard had been a rude awakening to the Dark Lord.

He'd felt his own face with a morbid fascination and realization of what he had now become. Voldemort had always been willing to sacrifice a certain amount of his humanity to gain power. He did what was needed to be done in order to ascend. He had understood the sacrifice from the beginning, deeming it necessary to achieve his goals.

Never had he regretted his decision to throw aside what bonded him to everyone else.

Never had he doubted his choice to shred apart his soul and his body.

Never, not once, had he realized how much he missed what he'd so foolishly relinquished.

Never… until now.

For those split seconds of touch; those ethereal, insubstantial bits of time; Voldemort had felt human. He had missed what he lost. He had regretted…

And now he found himself longing, most aggravatingly so, to feel the wind against the skin of his face as it should be; to feel the touch of another's flesh against his own. Not this cold, lifeless, brittle flesh that he had been cursed with, but the flesh of the courtyard and of the graveyard. He wanted to feel with that body. He wanted to breathe with it and see with it, but it had been taken away so quickly he hadn't more than a moment of a thought to feel that torturous memory of himself.

Harry Potter had always been the vessel of Tom's weakness. The young wizard had represented all that the Dark Lord had failed and everything that he could not do. Now the boy had taken one more blow to his pride. Now he was what Tom could not be. Now he was what Tom could have been. Now he was the embodiment of everything that Tom Riddle lacked; and everything that he wanted and desired.

It was so pathetically cruel that Potter could so easily and so inadvertently destroy him as he did.

Voldemort chuckled; a dark, mirthless rasp. He closed his eyes and the memory of Harry's shocked face blew into his vision. What had that look been? Fear? Disgust? Mystification? Perhaps a bit of all of those things… and more. The emotional orbs that were Harry's eyes was something that had always baffled the Dark Lord since the first time he'd laid eyes on the boy. They were passionate and arrogant, but that was only the surface. If you looked deeper you saw pain and resentment; most of which was most likely caused by Voldemort himself.

He really had destroyed Harry's life, hadn't he?

Funny how he had meant only to end it, and instead set in motion a race of despair and anger. He had deprived the teen of his parents, his loved ones, his life, and his future—all in one fail swoop.

Something akin to a flutter of guilt brushed at the lining of his mind. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that night sixteen years ago; the night when he had lost everything. He didn't regret it because of Harry's pain. He could care less about the boy's pain. No, he regretted the wizard he had created; one whose destiny was only for him and his death. And, likewise, Voldemort had drawn out his own fate to be Harry.

Their destinies were focused entirely around one another. Sworn enemies linked by a jagged scar and a broken prophecy.

How ironic that they were to be each other's obsession and motivation. Ultimately, they would bring upon the downfall of each other, but for now, they were the reason they both survived. They lived for death; a disgusting, pointless vendetta.

He ran his fingers along the tabletop once more, falling again into a catatonic contemplation.

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Severus pushed open the doors of the Hogwart's entrance hall, feeling a rush of unwarranted fear for a moment, as if the polyjuice potion was ineffective and he would be spotted. The night of Dumbledore's death rushed back to him and through all sense of logic, he feared being discovered in the one place where he was most unwelcome—the place that had once been his home and was now his exile.

However, a young Hufflepuff boy walked by and spotted him, smiling and waving. "His Neville!" he said gaily.

Forcing himself to speak, Severus responded with a throaty "hello" and a small wave. The boy didn't seem to notice his hesitance, thankfully, and he walked on. The fear had left with that Hufflepuff, and for a split second, Severus was furious with himself for feeling the paranoia at all.

Lucius, or Ginny, rather, elbowed him pointedly and he grunted, turning to his companion.

"Where do we start?" Lucius inquired quietly, glancing around the hall to make sure they hadn't been overheard. He flung a lock of red hair over his shoulder with a look of disdain.

"Walk around with that look on your face and we'll not be able to go anywhere," Severus hissed.

"What do you expect? These robes are such low quality, and I do not fancy having breasts," Lucius spat, grimacing and looking down at his chest.

"What you prefer is irrelevant, _Ginny_," Snape said the last word loudly as a couple Ravenclaws walked by and surveyed them curiously. Leaning in to speak more lowly, he continued. "Play the part or this will be a useless trip. Do you want to find out why Potter was here or not?"

Lucius rolled his borrowed eyes and sighed. He plastered a terribly fake looking smile onto Ginny's freckled face and growled under his breath. "Is that better?"

Severus ignored him, pulling off Neville's red and gold scarf in the heat of the castle. "I suggest we start at their common room."

Lucius nodded and they began to head up the endless tower of moving staircases.

Severus mind was whirring. How would they get into the common room? They didn't know the password. When they finally reached the seventh floor, they stared at the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was currently practicing opera, quite badly, and she paid them no heed. Lucius eyed Severus with a questioning look, and, in turn, Severus glanced around the corridor for a Gryffindor. Surely they would believe that Longbottom, of all people, would forget the password.

However, in his search he found not Gryffindors, but Slytherins. Two boys, third year by the looks of them, were chattering quietly to one another as they exited a corridor to the left of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"I tell you, that's where I saw him," the shorted one muttered, pointing back to the corridor they had come from. His short, black hair almost covered his puffy eyes as he insisted his statement.

The other boy was chubby and squat. He reminded Severus of a young Vincent Crabbe. "Why would Potter have been there?" he said, unbelieving. "He doesn't come here anymore. Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid!" his housemate growled indignantly, "Potter was running through this hall just a few days ago, I swear it!"

At this point, both Severus and Lucius were watching the boys severely, drinking in every word in hopes of a clue.

"I was up here for Defense Against the Dark Arts and I saw him and that Granger girl and the Weasley walking through the corridor. Later they showed up again and they ran out when You-Know-Who was spotted!" the student was waving his arms dramatically, trying to emphasize his story as if that would make it believable. His companion merely shook his head and starting walking down the stairs.

The two elder Slytherins tuned out the rest boy's spluttering and defiance of the honesty of his story and they slipped slowly into the hall the child had indicated. It was empty. Glancing quickly at one another, they prowled through the corridor, searching quietly through doors and in the shadows. Footsteps sounded behind them and they whirled to come face to face with a very startled looking Minerva McGonagall.

"Miss Weasley, Mister Longbottom," she said curiously, "What in heavens name are you doing sneaking about? Have you lost your toad again?"

Severus nodded Neville's head and pulled out a bashful grin. "I can't seem to find him anywhere, Professor," he said softly, trying to sound as Neville-like as possible. "Have you seen him?"

McGonagall shook her head. "No, I'm sorry." She paused and gave them a strange look. "Shouldn't you two be in _Hogsmeade_ right now?" she asked suddenly.

Severus got the feeling she was hinting at something and a bit of nervousness dropped into his gut. Had they chosen the wrong pair to impersonate? Perhaps Weasley and Longbottom had actually had a purpose of some importance. He had to think fast.

Lucius beat him to the punch.

"Neville was so worried about his toad that we had to find him first," he said lightly, his voice far too feminine. He must have used a charm to do that. "We were heading out to Hogsmeade once we found him."

Minerva nodded. This seemed to sate her. "Very well, but you might want to hurry it up. You haven't much time." She nodded to them emphatically and swept out of the corridor briskly.

Severus sighed and rubbed his temples.  
"Nosey, isn't she?" Lucius inquired vaguely, looking around the hall.

Severus nodded. "Imagine being her colleague," he replied tiredly, glancing at the wall beside them. Frustrated with their lack of progress, he began to pace. Where would Potter and his friends have gone? Why were they here? Why this corridor? Back and forth he walked, his eyes shut tight in thought. He turned to pace back again, but a small hand on his chest stopped him.

He opened his eyes to see Ginny staring up at him. For a moment, he thought it was really her, then he remembered the potions and straightened. "What?"

Lucius nodded towards the wall beside them. What had once been plain stone was now an elaborate door. What in the world?

The potions master turned Gryffindor looked at Lucius for an explanation, but the other merely shrugged.

Severus frowning, placed a plump hand on the door and pushed, marveling at the sight that appeared before him. It was a room, full of books and toys and endless items. The ceiling was high and the width long. "What in the name of Merlin is this?" he whispered.

"You're telling me you've never seen this room before?" Lucius asked skeptically, following Snape into the chapel-like room.

"Not once," the other wizard replied, "I'd no clue this even existed."

"Well it looks like everyone else knew of it. Look at all these things!" Lucius gaped rather unceremoniously at the mountains of items. "Is this some sort of junk room?"

Severus shrugged as something caught his eye. He stepped cautiously forward, peering down at the darkened spot in the floor. It was a burn.

"Looks like something was unhappy to be here," Lucius commented as Severus knelt down to inspect the blemish. "An explosive of some sort?"

Severus' eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "No, this is magical residue." He pulled out his wand and whispered, "Scorgio." Nothing changed. "See? It will not clean by spell. This was caused by something of a great magical propensity."

"Potter?"

Snape chuckled. "Potter."

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Severus and Lucius hurried down the twisting stairways towards the entrance of Hogwarts. It was time to go. They had gotten what they had come for.

They skid to a stop when they heard excited voices echoing from the entrance hall; familiar voices.

"Professor McGonagall!! Professor!!"

"What is it, Mister Finnigan?"

"Ginny and Neville, they've been tied up!"

A shuffle of feet and a gasp.

"What? Where?"  
"In the forest by Hogsmeade! We can't get he rope to untie or cut. It's strange-"

"That's impossible! I just saw the two of them minutes ago upstairs!"

A confused silence.

Severus swallowed audibly and he and Lucius began to back away. They had to hide.

"But I saw them!" Seamus continued, "Professor, you have to help. They'll freeze!"

Maternal and teacherly instinct took over logic and the two men heard Minerva agree. A group of people rushed out the door and into the snow.

The sigh that followed could probably have been heard for miles merely for its sheer, honest relief. "I'd rather not be caught and questioned," Lucius hissed, knocking Severus out of his relief.

"Yes." Severus nodded in agreement and once more drew his wand, casting disillusionment charms as the two hurried out the doors to the end of Hogwart's wards so that they could disapparate and inspect their findings.

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Harry twirled the heavy book around in his hands, grimacing when he dropped it and it crashed loudly to the floor.

"I do wish you'd take better care of my books, Harry," Remus Lupin said softly, observing Harry with a worried patience.

"Sorry," Harry grumbled, picking up the text and setting it aside, slumping lifelessly into his chair.

Hermione had asked Remus to come to Grimmauld Place so that he could provide a sort of paternal reassurance to Harry. The raven-haired wizard had locked himself up in his room for three days straight, and try as they might, Ron and Hermione could not persuade him to come out. He'd finally given in when Remus arrived, only to sit himself in a dusty armchair and not move for the next half a day.

Remus had given up trying to speak to him, knowing that Harry would talk in his own good time, but he had to admit that his patience was wearing thin as he watched his friend's son sit and suffer as he did.

He sighed and set his own book down on the table beside him, rising and switching seats to the armchair next to Harry's. The boy turned away from him and curled up into a sort of ball.

"Harry…" Remus began, not in the least bit surprised when the teen did not answer, but still disappointed. "Ron and Hermione have not told me what happened."

Harry turned and looked at him over his shoulder. He seemed surprised at this. "They didn't?" he mumbled.

Remus smiled, thrilled to hear Harry speak and determined to keep it that way. "No. I wanted to hear it from you. It is up for you to tell me what you want to." His honest expression remained steady and Harry relaxed a bit, looking away into the fire across the room.

"Will you tell me?" the older wizard asked gently, "You only have to tell me as much as you want to." He was well aware of the fact that Harry and his friends were searching for horcruxes; most likely those belonging to Voldemort himself. He was furious with Dumbledore for having set such a dangerous task upon mere children, but as he stared into their weathered eyes, he knew in his heart that they were children no more; aged by experience more than time.

"We were at Hogwarts a while back," Harry said quietly. Remus nodded. Minerva had told him this. "We were searching for something… to destroy it. And… when it died it went into me."

The werewolf paled. Surely Harry did not mean that the soul from the horcrux had transferred itself to Harry?

"Then Voldemort came," Harry said, finally looking at Remus, "And he grabbed my throat." He stopped, searching for the right words before he continued. "When he touched me… he changed. He looked normal."

"Normal?" Remus asked, rubbing his chin. "What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged. "He looked like a regular man. Hermione figured out that it must be what he was meant to look like. What he would have looked like if…"

Suddenly, Remus understood why Harry was so upset. "What he would have looked like if he hadn't tried to kill you," he finished. Harry nodded solemnly.

Remus looked away. So that was why Harry was so frustrated and confused. The Voldemort he had seen at Hogwarts was the image of what Harry's life could have been. He was the visage of what would have come if Voldemort had not killed Harry's parents and destroyed Harry's life. The man Harry had seen in the courtyard was the representation of what Harry lost, and it was the harsh realization of what had happened instead. Lupin found himself thinking of Voldemort and Harry as the same person. Their faces had both been warped by that day sixteen years ago; Voldemort's more visible than Harry's, but they were both changed from it, nonetheless.

Harry touched his scar. It was the mark that he bore as a reminder, just as Tom Riddle was reminded daily by his reptilian shell. What would have come to be if the Dark Lord had not attacked Harry that night? What would have happened if he had not lost his last shred of humanity in the backfire of the Avada Kedavra? Would he have become the inhuman monster that he was today?

Harry shook his head. He was still a monster back then. Just because his face was not that of a snake, that did not mean that Voldemort was not a venomous beast. He was still evil back then.

But somehow… it was different. The physical façade had changed something. It was the difference between hope and destiny. The face Harry had seen in the graveyard was confused and frightened. It was not the same face that had killed his parents and destroyed his life. Yes, it was still Tom Riddle. It was still Lord Voldemort. But something else was there. Something not quite evil

Something human.

And that gave Harry hope.

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**Reviewwwwwwsssssss. I eats mah reviews for breakfast! GIVE ME MORE, I IS HUNGRYYY!!!**

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**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	10. Impetuosity

_Why should I welcome  
Your domination  
Why should I listen  
To explanations_

_  
I'm not pretending  
To make it simple  
Try to be something  
Experimental_

_  
You don't turn me off  
I will never fail  
Things I loved before,  
are now for sale_

_  
Keep yourself away  
Far away from me  
I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy_

_No longer waiting  
Remove illusions  
No more complaining  
Forget confusion_

_  
No more compassion  
Not sentimental  
I am now something  
Experimental_

_  
You don't turn me off  
I will never fail  
Things I loved before,  
are now for sale_

_  
Keep yourself away  
Far away from me  
I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy_

_-T.A.T.U. – Perfect Enemy_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 10- Impetuosity 

Where the hell was it?! He left it right there! At that exact spot on the table!

Voldemort growled and tossed a few unidentifiable objects onto the floor in his frenzied search. Where in the name of Merlin?

"WORMTAIL!" He bellowed down the hall, only angering more as he heard a frightened squeak and a scrambling of fat feet.

"Y-yes master?!" the plump man cried as he sped lumpily around the corner of the hall.

"Where is it?" Tom snarled, his ire rising by the second.

"Where is what, my Lord?" Wormtail quivered pathetically.

"My sandwich, you lunkheaded buffoon!" the Dark Lord shouted, looking around the hall suddenly as if the food in question would walk around the corner any moment. "Where is it you pathetic excuse for human flesh?! You worthless waste of oxygen! You slimy invertebrate in capable of using the toilet!"

Pettigrew started at this last comment. He was perfectly able to use the-

"WHERE'S MY SANDWICH?!" Voldemort's eyes were crazy now; wild with fury.

"Harry Potter, milord!" the blob of a man responded quickly, holding his hands up vainly to ward of any damage that the Dark Lord might inflict upon him.

Voldemort stopped cold. "Why would Harry Potter take my sandwich?" he inquired, more curious than angry now.

"That's simple, Tom." All the sudden it was Albus Dumbledore who stood before him, blue eyes twinkling as he twined his gray beard around his index finger. "He was hungry."  
"I'm hungry too!" Tom cried in response. Was he… whining? "Why does Potter always get to have a sandwich?!"  
"Because he loves his sandwiches, Tom," Dumbledore responded airily, that blasted twinkle still glowing like mad.

Voldemort was outraged. "I will not love a sandwich! That's preposterous!"

"And that is why you will never defeat Harry," the old man replied severely.

"…Because I won't love sandwiches?"

"Of course not!"

A moment of silence.

"I hate you."

"Would you love me if I was a sandwich?"

A growl.

"…Go die."

"I am already dead, Tom."

"You are missing my point entirely."

"Settle down. Have a sandwich, dear boy."

"Harry Potter took my sandwich!"

"Must you always blame your insecurities on others?"

Tom sighed. "Am I dreaming?" he asked tiredly.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed."  
Voldemort nodded his snake-like head and turned his red eyes back to his bedroom door. "I'm going to wake up now, if you don't mind, old man."  
Dumbledore shook his head happily. "No, no. Not at all, my dear boy."

"Stay out of my dreams," the Dark Lord added suddenly; a secondary thought.

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Of course, of course. Would you like a sandwich?"

"HARRY POTTER TOOK MY-"

--

Scarlet eyes snapped open and a low, dark growl was heard into the depths of the night.

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It was a war hands and fists. Harry grabbed a bit of clothing and tried to push, but his opponent jerked his arm away and shoved him into the wall; hard. Green eyes widened and a gasp cut through the air.

Hands were running through his hair, an ungentle caress. He grit his teeth together when his neck was bitten. He pushed his hands outward, but the firm chest wouldn't budge. A warm cheek brushed his own and hot breath tickled his ear.

Finally, Harry got a good grip on the neck of the man's shirt and he yanked him backwards. He overestimated his strength, however, and the man simply moved back to look at him; dark eyes hard and unblinking.

Then, with a smirk, he leaned forward once more, whispering in a cool and sadistic hiss. "Harry."

--

Harry shot up in bed, rivers of cold sweat running down his face and chest. He practically yelped when he felt the tent in his pajama bottoms, ashamed and mortified that he'd actually gotten _hard_ from a dream about Voldemort.

His hand jumped up to his face so quickly that he slapped himself, but he ignored this and wiped his blurry eyes, refusing to acknowledge his nether region problem any further. This was one hard-on that, out of a stubborn pride and a bewildered horror, he would absolutely _not_ "take care of".

Groaning, he grumbled to himself, "Kreacher in a bikini…Kreacher in a bikini…" over and over like a mantra. Soon, his erection was gone and it was replaced with an overwhelming urge to make sure Kreacher was in proper dress and then promptly gouge his eyes out afterwards.

Cursing colorfully, he shoved on his trainers and, without thinking to grab his glasses, began shuffling blindly around the room in search of his red jacket.

Eventually he found what he believed to be the jacket in question. He slipped it on and impatiently grabbed his spectacles, placing them violently and somewhat crookedly on his nose before tip-toeing out his bedroom door and into the hall.

He stopped dead when he saw Kreacher hobbling up the stairs towards him. The old elf stopped and regarded Harry's odd expression with an annoyed interest.

Harry grimaced comically and they stared each other down silently. It was a furious battle of sanity, which Kreacher quickly ended with a grunt that sounded strangely like "half-blood brat tarnishing poor Mistress' house with his strange ways and staring at Kreacher with those unworthy eyes. Blood traitors! Kreacher will do away with them all! No worries about the klumpets."

It was an admittedly long grunt.

Harry shivered uncomfortably and tried not to picture bikinis as he wondered vaguely what a "klumpet" was. Perhaps Kreacher was like Luna, always making up the strangest things; all the while believing wholeheartedly that they existed. He had to wonder sometimes if Luna's anomalous tendencies were sincere. Perhaps she simply pretended to be so blissfully oblivious to reality. Harry had to admit, the ruse was either brilliant… or exceedingly pointless.

He stepped down the stairs, thoughts blank and the house silent for a moment.

It was then that his mind decided to recall the events of his dream. Harry frowned. It's not as if it could even really be called a "wet dream". He didn't actually… and nothing really happened. Well, Voldemort _did _bite his neck… Harry frowned in distaste mingled with frustration as he recalled the ghostly feeling of teeth and lips on his skin. The echo of the place where the Voldemort of his dream had touched him burned. He never thought Voldemort knew how to touch like that.

Wait a second! It was a dream! Voldemort probably couldn't touch like that. It's not as if it was the real man pressing up against him, hands running through his hair…

"Gah!" Harry let out a frustrated growl and slapped his hands to his head in an attempt to rip his own thoughts from his skull. Perhaps he should just obliviate himself. At least then he wouldn't know _why_ he was going crazy.

Zipping up his jacket, Harry rubbed his forehead roughly and opened the front door of Grimmauld Place, stepping into the crisp night air. He knew it was a bad idea to leave the safehouse without anyone with him—and at night on top of that!—but he couldn't help his desire to move and clear his mind.

The fresh air hit his lungs and he let out a sigh of appreciation. Even though his friends would not like or approve of the idea, Harry needed some alone time, and as he looked up at the remarkably starry sky of the rich, midnight black above, he knew tonight was the perfect night.

Suddenly, he felt invigorated and energized. Tonight would be a good night. Yes. He needed this.

And he began to walk down the street, hands in his pockets and street lights flickering overhead. A squirrel scurried across the street and he could help but jump a little at the movement. Life had made him so skittish.

He reached back and arm and scratched the back of his neck in thought, craning his neck back to look at the sky. He hadn't really looked at it when he'd come outside, but now that he was down the street, he felt the need to admire the crystals sparkling in the sea of black.

He smiled softly and let his arm drop back to his side, the stars filling his eyes with warmth as he gazed at them. Without any sort of warning, he began to cry. Hot, long-needed tears began to streak their way silently down his cold-flushed cheeks. As he looked with a heavy heart at the landscape above, he couldn't help but see the eyes of Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore shining back at him; their gazes loving and understanding.

For a very long, painful moment, Harry felt extremely alone and vulnerable. He had to resist the strong urge to simply fall to his knees and waste away. He didn't know where it had come from, but he knew right then that it had been lingering on the surface. The immense drowning of guilt that he had felt after his mentors' deaths had always weighed heavily upon him, but he had never taken a moment to spare a thought for the fact that they were gone.

It wasn't the fact that they were dead which caused him to cry. No, it was the realization that he was no longer a child and that he no longer had those parental figures to take care of him and guide him. He was truly on his own to stand and keep his balance. If he fell he would have to catch himself. The thought made him feel both very powerful and very exposed. He went numb for a moment and his mind fell into blankness. He didn't feel as sad as he felt cheated. Merlin, he felt so cheated.

He didn't bother to wipe his face of the salty tracks on his pale face as he sat against the gate of the alleyway he'd found himself in, letting his head fall back with a resounding thump as he gazed at the street sign at the end of the alley in a soft contemplation.

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Lord Voldemort was sitting once more in his armchair, this time glaring with a vengeance at the door across the room. He had allowed himself too much sleep as of late. That must be the explanation for such a… a ridiculous dream.

He rolled his slitted, garnet eyes in annoyance and rubbed the area where he should have had a bridge of his nose.

Now, to add to the disdain he already felt, he was now once more lamenting the loss of a crucial facial feature.

He retracted his hand, discontent in feeling the inhumanity of his face. Turning a woeful and irritated glance towards his side table, he almost lost his balance where he sat as his vision was thrown, not to his side table, but a dark street side.

An emotional agony that was not his own overwhelmed him, and he all but succumbed to a heart-tearing sorrow.

Was this Potter?

What in the world had happened?

The boy's gaze remained fixed on the worn street sign, barely readable in the unlit area. The closest street lamp was across the street, and it cast a sparse, eerie glow of flickering yellow onto the pavement. By the looks of his surroundings and height, he was sitting in an abandoned alleyway.

Voldemort frowned through the mental intrusion, finding it difficult to grasp his own thoughts as his own emotions wrestled with Harry's. It was an odd experience. He wondered indistinctly if Harry knew he was in his mind, but his more substantial curiosities got the best of that question.

Was Potter a fool? What was he doing out alone at night? Even he wasn't idiotic enough to go out alone unless something very unsettling had forced him to go against better judgment. Then again, maybe Harry just hadn't been blessed with good judgment. Severus had told the Dark Lord many times of the teen's foolhardy adventures and hotheaded decisions.

Most likely this was a spur of the moment venture.

After what seemed like hours, Voldemort fell out of Harry's mind only to be thrown by the sudden change of surroundings. He blinked rapidly a few times and readjusted himself, shifting in her chair and leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped.

The street sign had said Atherton. Tom was fairly certain that had been the word. Yes, Atherton Circle. That was not a common street name. It would not be too difficult to find if he apparated. After all, he already knew what the surroundings looked like.

He looked down at his hands. What would be the point of going there? He had no desire to kill the boy at the moment, and he had already gotten proof that the event that took place at Hogwarts was no hoax. Why then, did he wish to go there?

With no true reason or explanation for such a trip, Riddle found himself doubting his own thoughts and intentions. What did he intend? Why not just go kill the boy now? He was alone, off-guard, and in a weak emotional state. It would be easy.

As the Dark Lord thought over this question, he came to realize that the idea of actually killing Harry was strange to him. He could not imagine the boy being dead. He had been the sole focus of his life for the past sixteen years. When Potter was finally finished, what would that leave him with?

Dumbfounded with his own inner discovery, Voldemort felt angered with himself. Was this weakness? Had he actually doubted himself in his ability to kill Harry potter? No. No, it wasn't that. He had just realized how strange it would be. He had done nothing but concentrate on achieving the boy's demise for so long that now it was his driving venom.

Harry, in the sick ironic way that life always plays out, was what made him the powerful Dark Lord he was. Without the young wizard, Tom was merely another villain with a vendetta for ruin.

Harry gave him purpose.

How odd.

What, then, would he achieve by going to the alleyway where Harry sat right now? Why was he even still considering this strange temptation? Was he hoping to find answers to all the questions that had drowned themselves into the deepest pools of his mind?

Was he hoping?

For what?

What did he need with hope?

Scowling, he slammed a spiny fist into the arm of his chair. He was getting sick of his own contemplations. He was beginning to feel a vulnerability that was not Harry's this time. What was it about Harry Potter that made the Dark Lord question himself so much?

Tom knew that the answer to his questions did not reside in the alleyway of Atherton Circle, but he felt drawn to it, nonetheless.

Seeing as he had absolutely no desire to return to the monster of sleep, Voldemort stood and brushed off his robes as if they'd recently been sullied. He looked around the room, knowing that it was impossible that he was being watched, but still feeling it necessary to check.

Why did he feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house once his parents were asleep?

He was Lord Voldemort. He could go where he wanted when he wanted. He had no need to explain himself to anyone.

It was with that thought that he disapparated.

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Harry was dazed and restless, staring out at the street with a detached bit of emotion. He cheeks were taut from his dried tears. It felt as though the salty proof of his misery had shrunken his skin to his skull. He wanted to move, flex his cheeks and not let them feel so tight, but he couldn't seem to muster energy for the movement, so he resigned himself to staring dully at the street sign to his right.

A small tug at the back of his mind made his eye twitch reflexively, disregarding the odd sensation for mere emotional trauma.

However, when his scar began to twinge in a small and uncomfortable burning tingle, he pulled himself away from his incoherent state and began to look around wildly. He winced and touched his fingers to his forehead. His scar only hurt like this when-

"My, my, what are you doing out here?" a cold, high voice hissed. "And so very alone?"

Harry shot to his feet, but his legs wobbled from lack of circulation and he had to grasp the fence to his left for support. His eyes caught the figure in the shadows.

This time Voldemort had not opted it necessary to change his appearance. He had come out bold and uncaring, his reptilian exterior for all the world to see; though Harry highly doubted that anyone in the world was actually at Atherton Circle to see it. That was a rather worrisome thought, really.

"Really, Harry," Tom hissed, "You shouldn't be out alone. Terrible things could happen…" Voldemort let the sentence drift, allowing it to hold more foreboding as he walked out from the shadows with a sneer. He didn't really know why his was threatening Harry. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It was practical.

He confessed himself surprised and almost a little disappointed when Harry did not draw a wand and threaten to attack him. It was likely that the boy had been foolish enough to leave it back where he had come from, wherever that may be.

Harry was silent and unmoving, his gaze flowing past the Dark Lord and into the shadows, eyes narrowed.

"Once again, I come alone," Riddle said smoothly, waving a thin hand through the air as he gestured behind him in assurance of his solidarity.

Harry gave him an odd look. "I don't understand…" he trailed off, his eyes locked with Voldemort's as he tried to inspect him, looking for some answer within the blood red irises. "If it is so easy for you to find me, then why have you not killed me yet?"

"Do give me some credit," Voldemort said crossly, taking a step forward. "I am the most powerful dark wizard of my time. It is no difficult feat to find someone." He decided against mentioning his views of Harry's thoughts. It was possible that the teen thought the connection only went one way. No need to ruin that little surprise right now.

Harry shook his head. "Why haven't you killed me, then?" he was earnestly perplexed, and Tom thought he saw the echo of another feeling deep within the emerald eyes, but he did not think on it. He had feared this question. It was one he had asked himself many times.

At Voldemort's silence, Harry spoke again. "You could do it right now," he continued, "Why do you keep coming to me without Death Eaters? Why don't you torture me? I don't understand why… what do you want from me?"

"Do you want to be tortured Harry?" Riddle replied smoothly, slowly drifting towards the younger wizard. Harry backed up a bit, but his eyes never left the other's. "Do you want me to kill you?"

Harry swallowed. "Don't toy with me," he growled. There was that Gryffindor inside him. Tom was beginning to wonder if it was going to surface at all. "All you've wanted to do is kill me and hurt me. Yet now when you kidnap me you don't try anything. Now you are here but you haven't even taken out your wand. If you're going to kill me then just do it. Quit dragging it out." His glare was hard and determined. Was he egging him on?

Voldemort smirked to mask his bemusement. He had gotten close to Harry at this point; maybe only two or three feet away. The boy had been so busy interrogating him that he hadn't realized he was being cornered by the fence.

Voldemort surveyed him for a second or two before speaking, slowly and clearly. "The time will come when it is time for you and I to face each other for a final battle," he said softly, tracing Harry's lighting bolt scar with his eyes. "But it is not today. It is… not yet time."

"Oh I see," Harry breathed, baring his teeth like an angry wolf. "You want to wait and kill me when it will benefit you the most; when it will scare the most people and give you the most control." His eyes rose to follow the dark wizard's as the man stepped even closer to him.

"You are quite astute, Harry," the older wizard purred, looking down into the passionate orbs below his. "Yes, that is one reason why I wait."

"What is the other reason?" Harry asked, pressing himself as far as he could into the wood planks of the fence as Voldemort loomed ever closer, his face just inches away from Harry's as he spoke.

"I do not know," he replied honestly, earning a disbelieving look from Harry as he said it. "Doubt that as you may, Harry, I have not yet discovered why I haven't killed you yet. Perhaps it is merely that your luck is far too evasive."

"Bullshit," Harry retorted, starting to feel uncomfortable as the snake-like man's breath hit his face. "You could have done it ten-thousand times-"

"Now you exaggerate," Tom answered, "If it is assurance that you need, I _assure_ you that I will kill you soon enough." He smiled, but only slightly.

Harry didn't respond.

"Have you ever dreamt of a room with a fireplace?" Tom asked suddenly.

Harry's eyes shot up to face him in shock. "What?"

"You heard my question, Potter."

Harry's mouth snapped shut and his heartbeat shot skyward. That was all the answer Voldemort needed. He reached a hand up and pressed his fingertips to Harry's cheek, an action reminiscent of the day in the graveyard. Harry tried to jerk back, but there was nowhere to go as Voldemort changed once more before his eyes. Dark eyes sought his own and Riddle's countenance burned with an unrecognizable emotion.

"What is this spell you have put me under?" Voldemort whispered, his short, dark hair rippling in a nonexistent wind.

"I told you I didn't-"

But lips had closed down roughly on his own and his words were muffled by mouth as arms gripped violently at his shoulders. He mind was reeling and he willed himself not to move and Tom kissed him with a harsh fervor, as if the man had not felt someone's touch in a very long time. Harry shut his eyes tightly and clenched his fists at his sides, dying slowly under the bruising dance that Voldemort played with his lips.

Harry was overwhelmed by the longing that accompanied the touch, and he felt himself unable to resist but likewise unable to reciprocate, having no desire to do either.

A tongue flicked out softly and briefly, as though getting one last taste, before Voldemort pulled away, letting go of Harry's shoulders roughly with a blank look as he returned back to his cursed form for yet another time. His eyes were averted, a surprisingly submissive act for the Dark Lord.

Harry was lost of his words, his mouth still tingling and sore from the war that had just been waged upon it moments ago. He let his head fall and he looked away. Let Voldemort kill him now. Though he had not taken part, he had not tried to stop him. For this Harry felt nothing but shame and embarrassment. He wished the man would just kill him then so that he did not have to feel another moment of this overwhelming emotion.

He wished Voldemort would say something—anything—but the man just stood there, his expression cold and distant as he glared pointlessly at the Atherton Circle sign.

Harry opened his mouth, his body forcing him to speak when his mind did not want to. Yet, as he offered a mere syllable, Voldemort turned on the spot and vanished, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

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**Wtfomg I just totally hit you with a kiss! Boo ya! Didn't see that one coming, did ya? Or maybe you did.…. Either way, I feel vaguely satisfied with how this turned out.**

**WHERE'S MY SANDWICH?!**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	11. Acrimony

**ckret2: I thoroughly enjoyed your review for chapter ten. You're spot on about my intentions and you've interpreted my story exactly how I've wanted people to interpret it. I'm thrilled to have you as a reader! **

**A/N: For those of you who were not graced with the reading of ckret2's review, you truly should. They even figured out that the sandwich dream was a complete and utter metaphor. Like I said, that dream wasn't just pointless comedy, though I did enjoy writing the humor. It had a meaning. **

**Warning: This chapter is a really sudden mood change from chapter 10, just to let you all know. This is a lot less fluffy and a lot more… uh…….MORE**

**Anyways…**

**READ NOW AND THEN REVIEW OR I WILL THROW PICKLES AT YOU ALL!**

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_Lie awake in bed at night  
And think about your life  
Do you want to be different?  
Try to let go of the truth  
The battles of your youth  
'Cause this is just a game_

_It's a beautiful lie  
It's a perfect denial  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

_It's time to forget about the past  
To wash away what happened last  
Hide behind an empty face  
Don't ask too much, just say  
'Cause this is just a game_

_It's a beautiful lie  
It's a perfect denial  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

_Lie...Beautiful_

_Everyone's looking at me  
I'm running around in circles  
A quiet desperation's building higher  
I've got to remember this is just a game  
_

_So beautiful, beautiful..._

_It's a beautiful lie  
It's a perfect denial -  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me_

_-30 Seconds to mars- Beautiful Lie_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 11- Acrimony

Draco shifted uncomfortably in a plush armchair of the room. He was currently, very unwillingly so, waiting in his study as his father, mother, and Severus Snape tried to calm an irate Dark Lord. The young blonde had absolutely no idea what had made Voldemort so furious, and he had absolutely no desire to find out.

He glanced at the door in worry as there was a loud, angry bellow and a crash. He considered getting up to make sure his father and mother were ok, but his father had told him to stay put, and frankly, he wasn't brave enough to face whatever chaos was taking place downstairs.

Instead, as another shout and a shattering of glass was heard, Draco stood up hastily and grabbed his broom, pushing open the window and taking off out of it without another thought, wanting to get as far away from the manor as possible.

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His heart beat raced and slowed continuously with his thoughts, an angering undulation. Harry paced back and forth in his room, throwing vicious glances at the wall, the door, the bed. His fists were clenched into tight balls and his eyes fluttered rapidly with his heartbeats.

Voldemort had kissed him. What the bloody hell had that been about?! That bastard had probably been mocking him. He was probably showing how easy it was to get close to Harry when he was unable to defend himself. Harry let out a ferocious kick to his bedside and his rage ebbed for a moment.

He knew somehow that, that had not been the reason for the Dark Lord's actions. Maybe that had driven it, somehow, but Harry felt deep down that something else lurked beneath the surface of Tom Riddle's strange and perplexing behavior.

However, Harry would much rather believe the incident to be one of complete malice. To think that something less threatening was the true cause would give Voldemort too much humanity. He did not deserve an ounce of humanity, and Harry was not about to grant him that benefit of the doubt.

He felt his stomach twist and his anger rose again. He hated that he could still feel Voldemort's lips on his, like a burning scar that would never leave. He began to rub at his lips vehemently with the back of his hand. His swiped at them, again and again, until they were so sore he thought he must have rubbed the very skin off. He dropped his hand and scowled at the rug below his feet.

He was sick of being so confused. Ever since the day they had destroyed the diadem, everything in Harry's life had crashed in all directions, rippling into a thousand tiny pieces that he could no longer decipher. He was lost.

And as the days wore on, he wondered maybe if just continuing Dumbledore's mission would make it go away. This had all started with the destruction of the horcrux. Maybe destroying another one would make it all stop. Maybe if he destroyed all the horcruxes, he would finally be able to destroy Voldemort, and he would never again have to wonder about that look in the Dark Lord's eyes as he was changed into that man from his dreams. Never again would he have to think about that man. Never again would he have to touch him…

Could it possibly be that easy?

Probably not. Things were never that easy… or that simple. Yet, at least searching for the horcruxes would take his mind off of… whatever was going on. He didn't want to think about it any more, and if destroying the horcruxes would help him with that, he would kill two birds with one stone.

As such, Harry spent the days following that night at Atherton Circle either locked in the library or interrogating various Order members on where known Death Eater hideouts were.

So far, they'd gotten absolutely nowhere.

"Come on, Remus, just tell us!" Harry pleaded with Lupin, leaning across the kitchen table as he did so.

Remus sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. "I don't see why you three need this information. What would you achieve by going to the residences of known Death Eaters?"

"We believe that some things could be hidden where they live," Hermione responded from her spot at the end of the table. Her bushy brown hair was tied back into a long ponytail and she was currently leafing through her notes. Ron nodded from behind her. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, hands stuck in his pockets and expression bored. They hadn't talked to Harry about his latest fit of horcrux obsession, deciding that it was better than him not wanting to search for them at all.

They knew their friend was hurting and confused, but they also knew that to force Harry Potter to tell them why was worse than remaining silent and letting him tell them in time.

Remus still looked unsure. "You cannot be certain-"  
'Of course we can't be certain!" Harry interjected, his hair more messy than its usual chaos and dark circles under his eyes. He looked a mess. "Nothing in this war is certain, but we do know that Voldemort has some high level Death Eaters. He probably entrusts them with all sorts of things. Where better to hide stuff than with your most loyal and most deadly followers?"  
Remus felt his heart sink when Harry had said the word "war". He knew that this was a war, but hearing Harry say it held a different kind of connotation. It made the whole thing seem more terrible, somehow. "I…" he trailed off, torn between responses. He could tell that Harry had not slept in days. The boy's obsessive nature would possibly be his downfall one day. Remus felt obligated to tell him nothing, make sure the teen got some sleep, and then possibly hope that they would no longer want to know this information; but he was wise enough to know from experience with Harry and James that the green-eyed wizard would not rest until he had sated his obsession with his latest quest. If Remus didn't tell them what they wanted to know, they were likely to go out uninformed, putting them in more danger than they'd be in if he helped them.

"Who's location do you wish to know?" the werewolf sighed, defeated.

Harry's eyes lit up and even Ron and Hermione smiled triumphantly.

"Well…" Hermione thumbed through her notes for a moment, scanning the parchment. "We figure that Lucius Malfoy would be a great place to start. He'd bragged to Harry before about being in high regard with Voldemort, and we all know that he recently escaped from Azkaban. He couldn't have done that without help, so it's pretty obvious that Voldemort values him at least."  
Remus chuckled with little mirth. "I was afraid you would say him. Malfoy manor is a very well protected place. How do you intend on getting in and out undetected? You three may be good at magic, but you're not good enough to do it on your own."

"Well they're not going alone, so I guess that won't be a problem." A light, cheery voice had entered the room. It was Tonks.

"Tonks! When did you get here?" Hermione cried happily. She and Tonks had become great friends over the past few months, the pink haired witch being one of Hermione's few female contacts since the trio had left Hogwarts.

Nymphadora grinned. "I was tired of doing nothing, so I decided to visit!"

A low growl sounded behind her. "Have some dignity as an auror. Tracking down Death Eaters is not "doing nothing"."

"Moody!" Harry said with a smile, standing from his chair to greet the grumpy wizard, whose eye was currently spinning around as if it was trying to spot a golden snitch.

Mad-Eye grunted with a slight nod and turned his gaze to Remus. "To think you'd let children go off to the Malfoys. I won't hear of it!" He hobbled into the room and ignored Lupin's offended look as he took a seat at the table.

This comment caught Harry's attention, though. "Moody, we have to go alone," he said, frowning.

"Ha!" It sounded more like a cough than a laugh. "Don't even think about it, Potter," the rough ex-auror replied indignantly. "If you think we're going to let you go to Lucius Malfoy's house alone, then you've got hit with a few too many spells, boy. We'll go with you and that's that." He eyed Harry pointedly and Harry opened his mouth vainly to reply, glancing helplessly at Ron and Hermione. They looked just as trapped as him.

Tonks seemed to understand their reluctance, and she piped up suddenly, her bubblegum hair bouncing a little as she spoke. "Look, you guys don't have to tell us why you have to go there. All we know is that you need our help, and that's what we're here for."

Moody frowned, not really liking being uninformed, but he nodded anyway in agreement.

Ron and Hermione smiled, relieved. They seemed to like the idea. Harry wasn't as sure.

"I don't know, guys…"

"What's not to know?" Moody huffed, "You have to be smart about these things, Potter. Constant vigilance!"

"They're right, Harry," Hermione ventured softly, gazing unblinkingly at her friend. "We need all the help we can get, and we don't have to tell them anything." Tonks winked at Harry when Hermione said this. It made him feel a bit better.

Harry looked away from them all, thinking over the idea. Help would really make things go a lot easier, especially from Tonks and Moody. He didn't want to put them in danger though, but it was probably more likely that he, Ron, and Hermione would be in even _more_ danger if the others didn't help them. After all, the Malfoys were dangerous people.

Sneaking into their house was not going to be simple.

"It's going to take a lot of planning," Harry said slowly, "I'm not even sure if we can do it. I mean, how are we supposed to find something in a manor that we've never been to before?"

"Well that's simple!" Tonks, answered, causing all heads to turn to her. She walked up to the table and leaned forward on it excitedly, her palms resting heavily on the wooden surface. "We'll just make them think we've been there before."  
"And how do you suppose we do that, Nymphadora?" Moody responded disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow at her.

She glared over at him for the use of her first name and then turned to the teens with a toothy grin. "I assume you three are familiar with Draco Malfoy?"

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Normally, there would have been a bit more planning before going on such a dangerous mission, but Tonks, Ron, and Harry had been so gung-ho about the whole thing that the plans were roughly finished by evening. They were ready, save for three very annoyed comrades who believed that they needed more time to plan. These comrades being the very formidable Moody, Remus, and Hermione.

--

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione shrieked as Harry grabbed his cloak. He whirled around to face her, looking terrified. He'd never heard Hermione shriek before. "I can't believe you are ready to go to the Malfoys' with so little planning!"

"'Mione…" Ron tried nervously to calm her, but she batted him away with a rushed "Quiet, Ronald!"

"Hermione," Harry said defensively, standing straighter as if preparing himself to battle a dragon. "It's not just a little planning. It's perfect. We can go there on broom and Ron will polyjuice himself into Malfoy once we find him and knock him out, which shouldn't be too hard." Ron snickered, but Hermione shot him a baleful glare and he silenced. "You and I will follow him under the invisibility cloak and-"

"That's absolutely stupid!" Hermione cut Harry off, her bushy hair bouncing as she spoke with fervor. "The invisibility cloak is not going to help you if they suspect something. It's completely unsafe!"

"No one's ever caught us under that thing, Hermione!" Harry replied.

She paused for a second, her face flushed. "That's not the point! What if they catch us? What if they realize Ron isn't Malfoy?"  
"We've been to enough years of school with that git that I'm sure I can play him perfectly," Ron responded mimicking Draco's arrogant smirk.

"Hermione, if worse comes to worse, they're just the Malfoys," Harry said calmly, grabbing his invisibility cloak from under his bed. "And Tonks, Moody, and Remus will be waiting above the house on their brooms. If anything goes wrong, they'll be there to help us in a second."

"But Harry-"  
"_Hermione_," Harry said more firmly, looking at her with a pained stare. "I need this."  
Caught off guard, the witch sighed and slouched a bit. "Fine… but promise you two will be careful." She turned to Ron with an anxious expression.  
Ron walked forward and placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "We promise."

--

"Nymphadora!"

"Don't call me Nymphadora!"

"Tonks," Remus tried, sitting a calming hand on Mad-Eye's shoulder. "Do you really think it is wise to do this?" "Don't be silly!" Tonks retorted. "It's about time we had something to do, and let's hope the Malfoys are dumb enough to attack Harry so we can fight back and send them all to Azkaban again."  
"Ha!" Moody laughed gruffly. "Voldemort will have them out in a day!"  
"Then I guess we'll have to do something besides send them to Azkaban," Tonks replied devilishly. Moody rolled his eye.

"Tonks, surely you can't expect the kids to get in and out of there without a hitch?" Remus asked, hoping she would suddenly see reason and stop encouraging the teens to move forward with the plan.

"Of course they won't," the pink-haired witch replied. "But I also know that Lucius Malfoy won't dare hurt Harry without Voldemort's consent."

"That doesn't say what will happen to Ron and Hermione."

"We'll be right above the house! If anything happens, we'll be there in a second," Tonks replied with annoyance. "Those kids are strong, and Lucius isn't that much of a threat. He's dangerous, but he's not as skilled as he boasts. You've fought him before. You should know!"

"Yes!" Moody spat back, his magical eye swirling like a top. "I have fought him! But he is a Death Eater! These children do not know the magic that he is capable of. They do not understand what he will do to them without a moment's hesitation."

"Yes we do." Harry's crystalline voice had entered the room, and the three squabbling adults turned to face him.

Harry had the invisibility cloak tucked under his arm and Ron and Hermione stood by him like sentinels. "We know exactly what they are capable of. If you haven't forgotten, we've fought them before as well."  
The room was silent. Hermione broke it.

"With all due respect," she said, "We aren't children anymore. Harry, Ron, and I have faced a lot more than most people our age. If there's anyone who can handle Malfoy…"

"It would be you," Remus concluded solemnly.

Moody and Tonks were regarding the three with a silent respect. It was true. The trio really had grown up.

"Right then," the ex-auror said suddenly, hobbling over to the doorway and giving Harry a look of what could have only been fondness. "Why are we all standing here? Let's get a move on."

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Draco had stopped in the grass a few football fields away from the manor. The huge house looked now like a toy, placed randomly on miles and miles of forests and fields. The flashes of light had stopped coming from the windows, but he was certain that if he would have stopped closer, he would still be able to hear the angered screams of the Dark Lord and his father's lame attempts to calm him.

He glanced up at the blue sky and then back at the house. Wait…

His eyes shot skyward. Six figures on broomsticks loomed high above the grounds. At first he had thought them to be birds, but upon closer inspection he found that those were definitely not winged creatures of any sort, and they were heading towards the manor.

Draco knew well by this point that if Death Eaters ever visited his home, they came by way of apparition, never broomstick. Hopping onto his Nimbus, he sped off to the house. He had to warn his father…

Suddenly, there was a flash of red light, almost invisible against the light of the sunny day, and Malfoy fell from his broom unconscious.

The sound of numerous feet hitting the ground could be heard around the unconscious boy, and someone laughed. "Bloody hell! What was he doing, waiting for us?"

"We should have known Malfoy to be stupid enough to make this easy for us," Harry snorted.  
"I wonder why he was out here?" Hermione pondered aloud, looking over at the majestic manor down the hill.

"Who cares?" Ron replied, tugging out a lock of Malfoy's hair a little too roughly and handing it to Moody.

Hermione frowned and looked down at the crumpled figure, feeling a moment of pity before Harry and Tonks picked him up and started carrying him towards the forest. "What are you going to do with him?" she called, not really knowing why she even cared. She had gone to school with him, and even if he'd constantly called her "mudblood" and other such profanities, she still felt a kind of connection to him; at least through age and experience, if nothing else.

"We'll immobilize him and stick him in a tree, I suppose," Tonks called back with a smile. Harry was grinning and Ron began to guffaw.

Moody slapped Ron roughly on the back and Ron let out a kind of choked hiccup. "What was that for?!"

"Here's the potion," Moody stated, shoving it into Ron's palm.

"Oh…" It was a shimmering gold. Ron grimaced. "Just like Malfoy. Even his polyjuice potion looks like money."

"Hurry up and swallow it," Moody growled, picking up his broom and mounting it as Remus did the same. "The sooner we get this done with, the better."

Ron nodded and eyed the contents of the vial suspiciously before downing it and coughing directly afterwards. "Ugh! Tastes like earwax!"

"Bet it was at least better tasting than Goyle's," Harry stated with amusement as he and Tonks returned from the forest.

Ron didn't reply as he witnessed his body change. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to take polyjuice. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience to feel your skin bubble and your skeleton change shape. To his surprise, Malfoy wasn't that much shorter than him, and he was far more lean; bordering on the point of bony. Hermione was looking at him bitterly and Ron pointed an affronted finger at her. "Hey! Don't look at me like that! I'm not actually him, you know!"

Hermione blushed and looked away. "Sorry, it's just that seeing his face reminds me of all the nasty things he's done."  
Ron frowned. "He was a right git to treat you like that, 'Mione," he said earnestly.

Hermione turned to him and her eyes widened. Out of nowhere, she burst out laughing.

"W-what?!" Ron spluttered, clearly embarrassed and confused.

Hermione was doubled over, unable to control her laughter and tears popped out at the corner of her eyes. "It's…it's just so funny to see Malfoy calling himself a git!" Hermione giggled, finally regaining some ounce of control.

Ron turned to Harry with a helpless look.

Harry winked at him and tried valiantly to hold back his laughter. "You should have seen your expression, mate," he said, "It was way too… nice-looking for Malfoy."

"Well it's not like we're at the manor yet!" Ron replied defensively. He looked at his left arm and frowned. "He's even got the Dark Mark," he murmured with revulsion.

"You best get into character now, Ron," Remus said, nodding towards the house. "You three should get going. The potion does have a time limit, you know."

The teens turned serious and nodded, shrinking their brooms and placing them in their robe pockets. Harry picked the invisibility cloak and, with one last nod at Tonks, Remus, and Moody, he swung it around his and Hermione's shoulders and they disappeared.

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Voldemort paced back and forth in the library, his wand drawn and shattered glass from a vase lying around him. Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus were watching him carefully. Lucius' cheek bore a long cut from one of the Dark Lord's vengeful curses; just inches away from his eye.

"You have found nothing?!" Voldemort repeated for the umpteenth time, turning a severe eye to Severus.

Severus bowed, his long, black hair curtaining his face. "No, my Lord," he stated blankly. "No books that we have found speak anything of such an occurrence. It is unheard of."

"Well obviously it is not unheard of or it would not have happened!" Tom spat back, mercilessly casting the Cruciatus on the ex-Professor and scowling as he watched the man cry out in agony as his friends watched on in horror.

Sighing, he lifted the curse and turned away from the panting and shaking man, his gaze now focused on Lucius. "You have disappointed me."  
Lucius bowed deeply. "I am eternally sorry, my Lord," he said smoothly. "I assure you, I have done my best."  
"Well your best did not succeed in doing much, did it, Lucius?" Voldemort responded cruelly, his red eyes narrowing.  
"No, milord, I am sorry. I will accept any punishment." The man was still in his bow.

Riddle was about the raise his wand and cast another bout of pain when they heard the front door of the manor open. They all looked towards the direction of the sound, and Voldemort nodded to Lucius, who hurriedly left the room to find out who had just entered his home.

Ron walked forward cautiously, feeling extremely exposed in the elaborate entryway of Malfoy manor. He could hear the quiet breathing of his friends behind him, and they pushed him forward softly. He'd taken only two steps into the house when none other than a very bedraggled Lucius Malfoy appeared before him. A deep gash colored his left cheek and he was very sweaty and pale. What was going on?

"Father," Ron said slowly, the sound of saying such a thing to Lucius very alien to him. It was almost as if he had just cursed.

Lucius looked furious. "I thought I told you to stay in your study!" he growled, glancing back from where he had come with apprehension.

"I…I was just going for a walk," Ron said dumbly, looking back where his friends stood with fear.

"You went for a walk while the Dark Lord is here?!" Lucius spat, both shocked and outraged. "What is the matter with you?"

Ron looked like a deer caught in headlights and Harry's mind raced. Nononononono… Voldemort was here? But _why_?

"I am sorry, father," Ron said softly, averting his eyes shamefully.

Lucius' demeanor seemed to soften slightly as he saw his son cower. He opened his mouth to respond, but a high, cold voice beat him to it.

"Draco," the Dark Lord hissed as he walked from the shadows to stand next to Lucius. Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy followed close behind him. Narcissa looked very scared as she stared at her son with horror. Snape's robes were torn and he was hunching slightly, as if in great pain.

The trio realized quickly that they couldn't have chosen a worse time to come to Malfoy manor.

Ron bowed to the reptilian man, having absolutely no idea of what he was supposed to do.

Voldemort chuckled. "No need to be so tense, boy," he said softly, advancing slowly. Ron was sweating torrents now, his raging heartbeat matching those of his friends' behind him.

Tom Riddle stopped before the pale blonde, looking down at him suspiciously. "May I ask what you were doing?"

Lucius took a step forward. "My Lord, he was merely-"  
"I did not ask you that question, Lucius," Voldemort snapped coldly. Lucius fell silent.

"I… I was taking a walk, my Lord," Ron muttered, his eyes staring with a strong determination at the marble floors.

"Is that so?" the Dark Lord said, smiling. "Is my company that hard to bear? That you must leave this house?"

Ron felt a jolt of horror strike through him. "…Please, no. I do not think that at all!" he was losing his cool and Hermione knew it. She reached up and touched his back softly. This was the wrong this to do. Ron jumped and Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He turned around to face Lucius. "This is no our son," he said simply.

"W-what?!" Lucius sputtered, looking past his master to his terrified son, who was staring at him with wide gray eyes. "Of course he is!"

"Don't be a fool, Lucius," Tom replied, spinning his wand towards the fake Draco. Narcissa let out a frightened cry as Ron flew back into his friends and the three collapsed to the floor. Harry saw his foot peeking out from the invisibility cloak and tried desperately to pull it back in, but Voldemort had already noticed and he was walking towards them quickly.

In a split-second decision, Harry and Hermione threw of the invisibility cloak and drew their wands. Gasps of surprise echoed throughout the hall and Tom stopped dead, staring at Harry with an unreadable expression. "Potter," he said darkly.

Harry returned his look with a venomous stare.

Hermione saw Lucius and Snape exchange shocked looks before turning back to the center of the room and drawing their wands with… was that hesitance?

Ron pushed himself up off the floor and saw Lucius beckoning to him. "Come here, son," he said, softly so as not to disturb Voldemort and Harry's staring contest.

Ron shook his head and Lucius' expression went dark. "You are not him?" he asked. Ron shook his head again.

"Where is he?" His tone held a deep worry and Ron couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. "He's fine," he said quietly. Lucius drew back a bit, obviously relieved.

"Enough of this!" Voldemort snarled, pulling back into a dueling stance. "Kill them now! Potter is mine."

Snape and Malfoy looked shocked at the order for a moment, but they quickly remembered themselves and aimed their wands at the two Gryffindors.

"Avada Kedavra!" Snape shouted, purposefully missing Hermione by a few centimeters.

She cried out as the hissing magic scalded her ear and she shot off a stunning spell towards the sallow-faced man, who dodged it easily.

Ron and Lucius were staring each other down, neither willing to make a move. It seemed Lucius was unable to attack even the image of his son. This hesitance was mirrored by Ron. He felt bad, for some reason, to attack Lucius while he looked like Malfoy. It would be like him attacking his own father.

Voldemort called out a spell that sounded a lot like Reducto, and moments later, the door by which Harry had been standing was blasted to bits, sending shards of wood everywhere. Harry had dove out of the way just in time, taking Ron with him as they fell to the floor to avoid the blast.

Harry sent a body bind towards the Dark Lord, who flicked it away with agitation. Flashes of light were everywhere now. Narcissa had finally decided to do something and she was attacking Hermione mercilessly. Ron was trying to help her, but as soon as Lucius saw the visage of his son attack his own mother, he came to his sense and began to throw spells at the thief of his son's skin.

Severus was trying to calm Lucius and was throwing spells at absolutely no one as he did so, trying to make it look like he was doing something.

Harry was being driven out onto the grounds as Voldemort attacked him with a furious onslaught of spells. Even through all the jets of light, Harry realized that the man had not cast one unforgivable. In fact, he was only casting minor curses and jinxes; nothing that would do actual damage to him.  
For some reason, this only made Harry more furious. He began to attack back with equal ardor as he and his friend were driven into the middle of a field outside the manor.

Soon Tonks, Remus, and Moody had landed on the ground behind the teens, and the battle stopped for a moment.

Voldemort scowled as he realized what was happening. "Severus!"

Snape walked swiftly over to the Dark Lord and nodded. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Give me your arm."

Severus knew what was happening, but he could not risk hesitation, lest he give away his desire to do their opponents no harm. He knew, as he held out his left arm to Voldemort, that this would not bode well for the Order members. Tom pressed a bony index finger to Snape's dark mark, and it immediately began to twist and burn.

"He calling Death Eaters," Moody growled from behind Harry and Hermione. He, Tonks, and Remus already had their wands drawn. Lupin was currently glaring daggers at Snape, and Tonks was continuously changing her facial features and making faces at two disgusted looking Malfoys.

Sure enough, the sky began to hiss with black smoke as Death Eaters appeared from nowhere, shooting from above to land on the grounds, masks in place and wands drawn. There were about six of them in total, including the Malfoys and Snape. Six against seven. Those were okay odds. Of course, that was only if one would count Voldemort as one wizard. He was, naturally, a bit more lethal than that, but they decided not to consider this fact.

The air was still and silent as the two groups stared at each other.

Harry spoke, his eyes locked with the slitted, ruby orbs of Tom Riddle's. "Well this is a change of pace." His voice was mocking and Remus turned to him. What was he talking about?

Voldemort seemed to understand the comment, though, and with a snarl of strong detest, he cried "Crucio!" Harry dodged it, but just barely, and the battle began.

"Impedimenta!" Harry cried, stopping a masked Death Eater in his tracks just as he was about to cast the Avada Kedavra on Hermione. Ron and Tonks were locked in battle with Narcissa and a short, plump Death Eater who had removed his mask to reveal a puffy face with tiny, black eyes.

Remus and Snape were letting out on each other, constantly shouting angry insults at one another, mostly about their school years together.

Moody had come to Hermione's defense and had sent a severing charm at one Death Eater. It hit the wizard's wrist and his wand fell with a thump to the ground, along with his entire hand.

Harry blocked out the Death Eater's scream of shock and pain and moved just as Voldemort sent another Cruciatus at him. It hit the side of his arm and it began to bleed. Baring his teeth, he shouted, "Sectumsempra!"

Voldemort sliced his arm through the air and blocked it with a silent shield spell, causing the air to momentarily light up brightly, a shocking change to the evening haze. His arm swung back down in the recoil and he flung Harry backwards into the ground.

Harry cried out at the impact, but ignored the pain in his back and sat up, casting a disarming jinx and a stunning spell in the same breath. They knocked Tom back a bit, but had no other effect other than to aggravate him further. "Crucio!"

Harry writhed on the grass, his strangled screams cutting through the sky.  
"Harry!" Ron shouted, his still blonde hair spinning around his face as he threw a curse at Voldemort. It distracted the man enough for him to drop the curse and Harry struggled to his feet, his eyes watering.

Harry was livid. "SECTUMSEMPRA!" he roared, hitting Voldemort fully in the left side of his chest. The wizard let out a shout of pain as his robes and skin split open and blood as red as his eyes began to pour down his side. His eyes shot to Harry's and Harry faltered, remembering the eyes of Tom Riddle the previous night. The night when he had kissed him.

Voldemort was panting heavily from the loss of blood and a Death Eater had rushed over to him. He shoved them away and straightened his back, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

There was a flash of green light and a horrified scream and Harry felt all time crash to a stop as Hermione shouted, "Tonks! No!"

His head turned slowly, everything moving at half speed and all sounds of battle drained from his ears as he saw Tonks, still and silent, dead on the ground a few yards away. His heart pounded in agony and rage and hot tears began to spill from his eyes. Not Tonks! No, not her! Please!

His head was spinning and an overwhelming fury engulfed him. "CRUCIO!" he screamed, hitting the Death Eater who had killed her straight in the chest. The man flew back with an outcry of pain.

Suddenly, another voice cut through his anguish. It was high and cold. "That is enough!" Voldemort bellowed, taking a few swift strides towards his Death Eaters. Spells stopped at once. Even the Order members seemed to restrain themselves and they battled with the torment of their fallen friend. Hermione's face was flooded with tears and Remus looked thunderstruck as he stared at Tonks' lifeless body.

Harry's mind faded away and it was replaced with an inexpressible malice. He began running forward, winding blowing past his ears. "You!" he yelled as he ran. Voldemort turned, his expression dangerously placid.

A Death Eater stepped forward, but the Dark Lord raised his hand and shook his head. He let Harry come to him and the boy fisted his hands into his robes, not touching his skin. Harry faltered when Voldemort didn't change as he touched him. The change must only happen when he touched the man's skin. That was good to know.

He dug his fists deeper into the man's dark robes and pulled his face close, thrown when Tom didn't fight back at all. "You," he repeated, his emerald eyes miserable and fierce.

Riddle merely stared back at him, his mouth frowned slightly as he looked into the face of his enemy.

His enemy…

Their animosity was palpable as they stood there, Harry shaking as he felt unable to keep his grips on Voldemort's robes any longer. "You…" he whispered, his voice heavy and leaded with sorrow. All energy was drained from him now. His pushed against the dark wizard, but the man didn't budge, so it ended up only being leverage to move himself away.

Everyone around them looked on with a morbid fascination. Dark and Light alike shared in their confusion at the encounter. They knew that the interaction had been beyond their understanding, and thus, they had stood by and watched as Harry Potter grabbed the Dark Lord like any other man; and Voldemort had just stood there… uncaring.

Harry looked away, refusing to let his eyes rest on Tonks' crumpled body. He felt numb. The horcruxes were long gone from his mind now. He knew Tom was still looking at him, but he ignored the stare. He didn't want to see those eyes again, or what they contained. Forcing his legs to move, he nodded to Remus and Ron—who had finally changed back to his red-headed self—and together they walked to Tonks' body, putting their wands away.

A few of the Death Eaters stirred, but Voldemort stilled them with an icy look and they stood back, watching as Harry and his companions ignored them and carried Tonks away in silence.

"My Lord," Narcissa Malfoy ventured nervously, "Why do you let them go? We had them!" Voldemort broke out of his stony silence and he turned, ever so slowly, towards her. She shrank back at the look he bore. Within his countenance he held the utmost contempt and hatred. His wrath emanated from his very being as he opened his mouth to speak. "You dare question me?" he asked, his voice so quiet it could barely be heard above the breathing of the group; but it was clear.

Narcissa began to tremble and she fell to her knees, kissing them hems of his robes. "No, I do not question your greatness, milord!" she cried.

Tom stepped away from her and sighed, suddenly very tired. "Leave me," he said, waving his hand lazily through the air. The Death Eaters left without hesitation, whirlpools of black smoke careening into the night as Lucius and Narcissa hurried into the manor, whispering nervously to each other about the whereabouts of their son.

Severus Snape stayed behind, however, and he approached the Dark Lord with caution.

"My Lord," he said carefully, "Your wounds."

Tom looked down at his chest. It was soaked through with his own blood and his robes were almost shredded by the shoulder. He had forgotten entirely about that. At least now he knew why he was suddenly so tired.

"Take me to my manor, Severus," he said, looking out over the darkening hillside as the potions master nodded and grabbed his good arm. After a moment's worth of thought, they apparated away from Malfoy manor.

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**Don't hate me, Tonks-lovers!**

**This was the longest chapter yet, btw. 13 pages, I think. Not bad.**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	12. Funeral

**Maraudersbanana: OMG, I love your username.**

**A/N: OK, so half of you are like "SLASH GIVE SLASH OMGDROOLSPAZFOAMATMOUTH" and the rest of you are like "Keep them in character or I will stab you with spork!". Needless to say, I'm a thoroughly afraid of all of you. I thought I should tell you that it's going to take a lot of pent up emotions for the slash to come, and in order for emotions to boil up to that point, it takes time. I'm not letting go of my in-character promise. Even in the end, if they've changed, it will be progressive and transitional. I want this story to be smooth and believable from start to finish. Hopefully I'm doing that. Let me know how I'm doing, guys, and don't stab me with sporks, please.**

**A/N 2: Also, someone asked me if I was going to stay canon with all the Deathly Hallows deaths. The answer is: no, I'm not. In fact, most of the DH deaths probably won't happen, and there'll be different ones instead! (omfg) Yes, there will be more deaths. Deal with it.**

**A/N: Just as an explanation of sorts for this chapter, I thought I'd let you know that the scenes, if that what you want to call them, are really short. This chapter kind of comes in snippets. Yay for snippets!**

**A/N 4: Lastly for my ridiculous amount of author notes, I suggest to you all that if you do not know the word I choose for the title of each chapter, LOOK IT UP. I choose these words carefully and they really describe what is coming in the chapter. Dictionary(dot)com is a perfect reference. You won't really need to look up the chapter title this time. If you don't know this word… I weep for you.**

**Now READ, my minions!**

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_Fear is like a tree  
That grows inside of me silently  
And you could be my blood  
And be a part of me secretly_

I've lost a war  
I've lost a fight  
I've killed a man  
Wasted a life

Open my eyes, let me see you  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes, let me find you  
Give me a sign

Hate is like a ghost  
That lives inside of me, I plead  
For you to be my guide  
To be the feeder of my need

I've lost a war  
I've lost a fight  
I've killed a man  
Wasted a life

Open my eyes, let me see you  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes, let me find you  
Give me a sign

Take my word and fold me in  
Free the soul behind the sin  
The endless dark will be the death of my senses  
Take my heart and hold it in  
Kill the beast under my skin  
The endless dark will be the death of my senses

Open my eyes, let me see you  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes...

Open my eyes, let me see you  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes...Give me a sign

_-The Rasmus – Open My Eyes._

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 12- Funeral

The days following Tonks' death were quite and long. It was two days before Christmas, and no one was celebrating. They'd brought the auror's body to the Burrow, where they would hold her funeral. Tonks' parents had wanted her to be buried in the graveyard by their home, but the Order had decided that it wasn't safe to do at the moment, so they opted to move her body later; when the war was over.

As such, a large group of friends, family, and aurors alike had gathered at the Burrow. Many of them had pitched tents outside; much like the ones that Harry and the Weasleys had used in the Quidditch World Cup. Others just didn't sleep, and they patrolled around the gardens and hills as if expecting an attack at any moment. This infuriated Mrs. Weasley, of course.

"They're acting as if a whole army of Death Eaters is going to come knocking on our door!" Molly cried out in exasperation as she served out some soup for those at the dinner table.

"They're aurors, my dear," Arthur Weasley replied in a sort of poor explanation.

Moody nodded and poured some whiskey into his glass. He had taken it upon himself to quickly empty the Weasleys' entire supply of alcohol. "It gives them something to do," he said as he took a swig. "They would be fighting right now, so being out here makes them feel uneasy."

The room's occupants nodded in silence. They couldn't help but feel that Moody was talking about himself too.

Harry stared down into his soup with blank eyes. Ever since Tonks' death, he'd been overcome with the most apathetic guilt. Just a week ago she had taught him how to cast a stronger disillusionment charm. And now she was dead; all because she had tried to help him. Why was it that everyone who tried to help him would end up dead? His wrapped his fingers tightly around his spoon, ignoring the metal as it dug into his skin.

Hermione was no better off. She only stopped crying to breathe. Her companions had gotten used to her random outbreaks of sobbing and incomprehensible gibberish that accompanied it. Ron would merely hold her until the shivers ebbed and he would wipe her tears away. Any other time, this would have seemed so romantic; but at the time, it just became another thing fading into the mournful silence that was rarely broken.

Remus sat at the far end of the table, his gaze distant as he looked out the window into the yard. He had told her not to love him. He had told her that she was young… that her whole life was ahead of her. He had refused to love her…

Moody declined to think at all. He had drowned all his thoughts in firewhiskey, not allowing the thoughts of remorse or sadness enter his mind. She had been a fellow auror. The only one he had ever really liked…

Ginny had come home for Christmas just a few days before it had happened, and she stewed silently in her seat, furious that she had not been there. Maybe she could have helped. She could have done something! She bowed her head, her vibrant red hair falling down around her face. She knew that was silly to think; that she could have prevented the death. But still, she felt so useless.

Even the twins, Fred and George, were completely silent, their face devoid of their normal goofy grins. They hadn't known Tonks well, but they'd always shared a good laugh with her. She had been so funny...

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and all of the heads at the table turned simultaneously towards him, knocked out of their thoughts. He swallowed in embarrassment at the sudden attention and turned to Harry. "I was wondering if I might speak with you," he said. Harry looked over at Ron for a sort of confirmation. His friend simply nodded and went back to patting Hermione on the back.

Sighing, Harry rose from his chair, the wood scraping against the floor loudly. The others watched him as he followed Arthur out into the yard; and then they all turned back to their meals, none of them actually eating.

Mr. Weasley waited until they had walked far away from the house before he spoke, turning to Harry as they continued to wander.

"Harry, I know what you're feeling," he said with a pained expression as Harry looked away.

'No you don't,' Harry thought bitterly.

The elder wizard seemed to hear this thought. "Harry… I know that you feel guilty for what happened, but it wasn't your fault." His voice was firm. Harry rethought the situation for a moment. Maybe Mr. Weasley understood a little, but no one _really_ understood. No one knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved. _Everyone_ who was there for you… One by one, he was losing them all.

Arthur stopped and stilled Harry as well with a large hand on his shoulder. He waited until Harry faced him before he spoke again. "This is a war Harry. No, look at me. This is a war, and people are going to die. Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore… they all knew that. They were all willing to make that sacrifice for the greater good."

"What is the greater good?" Harry replied, feeling his face heat up. He hadn't wanted to think about Sirius and Dumbledore. "Why is everyone dying?"

"Everyone isn't dying!" Arthur responded, gesturing back towards the Burrow. "Look at all those people down there! They are all here to help you. And those people in the house! They all love you. Every last one. We aren't dead."

Harry bit his lip and fought against his tears. "I don't want that to change…"

"It won't change, Harry," Arthur said strongly, placing his other hand on Harry's free shoulder and looking into his eyes. "Even if we die, we will always be with you."

"I don't want you to die!" Harry cried, his eyes sparkling like crystals in his sadness. "I don't want anyone else to die!"

"None of us do, but it's going to happen. What's important for you to remember is that not a single one of us regrets what we've done for you and for this war. Not Tonks, not Sirius, and certainly not Dumbledore. None of us would have changed a thing we've done. Through life and death and all the things that are out there, we are he for you, Harry. Always."

Harry was unable to respond, his grief too overwhelming to allow him, so Mr. Weasley just pulled him close in a warm embrace. Harry clung to him, thanking the gods once more for the Weasleys; thanking Merlin for all his friends; and hoping with all his might that no more would die. He knew that he could not hope for such a miracle, but he felt like he should at least try to wish. He couldn't stand another loved one dying. It would kill him. It really would.

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The day of the funeral was overcast and cold. Harry wrapped his cloak around him tightly and huddled closer to Ron and Hermione as they shivered into the dull afternoon.

They were surrounded by almost thirty other people. It was not a huge group by any means, but it still seemed crowded.

Harry recognized the sound of a sobbing Hagrid and he stood, walking over to the overwrought half-giant.

"'Arry!" Hagrid sniffled, opening his arms in a beckoning to the young wizard. Harry responded to the hug eagerly. He had really missed the giant. However, his lungs did not miss Hagrid as much as the man crushed the air out of them. He released Harry moments later and dabbed at his eyes with a towel-sized handkerchief. "Sorry, 'Arry, I just can't control myself," Hagrid said as he sniffled again.

"It's alright, Hagrid. It's good to see you," Harry replied, sitting next to his old friend. "As good as it can be, at least." He looked up at where Mr. Weasley was preparing Tonks' father to give a speech. The man looked horrible and his wife couldn't stop sobbing. Harry felt another wave of guilt and pity.

"Oh, you don't worry 'bout me, 'Arry," Hagrid muttered through a swipe of his towel. "Ron and Hermione will be wantin' ta sit with ya, I'm sure."

Harry nodded and patted Hagrid on the back before returning to his seat next to Ron. The redhead reached over and squeezed Harry's arm with a weak smile. The funeral was starting. The murmurs of soft chatter slowly died down as Arthur walked up to the pew and put a sonorous charm to his throat.

"Thank you all for coming to pay your respects to Nymphadora Tonks, a wonderful auror and an even more extraordinary person," he said, pausing when Tonks' mother let out a loud howl and buried her head in her hands. "Tonks was killed in a battle with Death Eaters, as you all know, and we will not forget the valiant and brave way in which she gave her life for us."

There was some soft clapping and Hermione began to bawl again, burying her head into Ron's chest.

Mr. Tonks walked up and took Arthur's place, clearing his throat and preparing for his speech.

Harry toned it out. He didn't want to hear any more.

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Harry and Ron were sitting out on the Burrow's porch, watching silently as Hermione talked with Fleur Delacour and Ginny, both girls patting her sympathetically on the back.

Ron ran a tired hand through his hair and frowned. "Hermione's right terrified now," Ron said, staring at the brown-eyed girl as she smiled weakly back at him. He returned it just as half-heartedly. "She's afraid, mate. And I am too." His eyes met Harry's.

"Me too…" Harry grumbled, picking up his pumpkin juice and swirling it around in the cup. Most of the guests had already left, not wanting to linger any more than they had to. Now only close friends and family remained, talking and crying to one another.

"I think we should leave tonight," Ron said suddenly.

Harry turned to him, surprised. "What?"  
"Look, if we don't get this," Ron looked around to make sure they weren't overheard. "If we don't get this horcrux search over with fast, this will just keep happening. I talked to Hermione and she agrees. We should leave without the others knowing. If we don't tell them where we are, then they can't try to help us."

Harry looked back at Hermione and then to Mister and Mrs. Weasley. Ron had a point. If they didn't know where they were, there was no risk of them trying to help them and… and getting hurt in the process.

"'Mione says her folks have a cabin out in Woodberry," Ron continued, catching Harry's attention once more. "Out by the mountains in the North. They only use it in the summer, so they won't be out there."

Harry nodded grimly and touched his scar reflexively. "Then we'll go there," he said.

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"I'm sick of sitting around!" Bellatrix Lestrange cried maniacally. "We should be serving the Dark Lord!" Her eyes widened at the mention of her master, but she was cut off by another voice.  
"Don't' be foolish, Bellatrix," Snape growled. "We are serving him. Going out attacking Order members was not commanded. He would be displeased-"

"Displeased?!" Bellatrix repeated, her hair twisting through the air as she spun around to face him. "He would be displeased if we killed members of that blasted Order? I don't think so. Won't you come with me, 'Cissy?" she breathed, turning to her sister.

Narcissa shook her head. "I won't leave Draco. He is still very upset."

"Upset because of those people!" Lestrange retorted. "They're the ones that attacked him! And they're all in one place now. Don't you want revenge?"

Narcissa did not dare say that this was not the reason Draco was out of sorts. It would be foolish to point a finger not at Potter, but at the Dark Lord himself, who had mercilessly tortured her son when they had found him, blaming him for Potter's intrusion in Malfoy manor.

"And Potter will be there!" Bellatrix continued, "I would so like to hurt that boy a little." Her face twisted into a wicked grin.

This time is was Lucius who spoke, turning from the fire to his sister-in-law. "You hurt Potter and then the Dark Lord will truly be furious with you, Bellatrix. Killing him is a death sentence."

Bellatrix let out a wild laugh. "I don't intend on killing him! I just want the little brat to feel some pain. Maybe I'll just drive him mad! If the Boy-Who-Lived goes crazy, it will be all that more easy for our master to kill him!"

Severus and Lucius exchanged worried looks.

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape spat. "He wants to take care of the boy himself. He won't go easy on you just because you got cabin-fever, you foolish woman!"

"Don't call me foolish, Snape!" Bellatrix roared, pulling out her twisted wand and glaring at him. "The Dark Lord will be thrilled with me if I bring the boy to him! And that's what I will do!" She was ginning madly now and they other could only stare at her in a disgusted kind of shock.

"I know Crabbe, Nott, and Vincent will be happy to join me," the deranged witch continued, gripping her wand tightly. "They want to see Potter defeated, unlike some of you."

Lucius scowled and was about to retort when Bellatrix winked at him and disappeared.

"That bitch!" Lucius roared. "What the hell does she think she's doing?! Your sister is a fool!" Narcissa sighed. She already knew her sister was crazy, but the Dark Lord would not be happy with this little stunt. She worried, offhandedly, for her sibling's safety. It was likely that Voldemort would kill her this time.

"We must inform the Dark Lord," Severus said, nodding to Lucius, who returned the action.

They swept out of the room quickly, grabbing their traveling cloaks and disapparating to Voldemort's manor.

They knew that Voldemort was no more of a protector of Harry Potter than he was a happy man with pet bunnies; but they also knew that he had strictly ordered that no one lay a finger on the boy but him.

At least informing Voldemort would save Harry for now.

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It was almost pitch black now, the lights from the Burrow the only source of light as the trio made their way quietly across the lawn. They hadn't said goodbye to everyone, even though they desperately wanted to.

Their packs were hanging over their shoulders as they began their trek away fro the Burrow. They couldn't apparate there or they would be heard.

Suddenly, though, they had to do a double-take at their surroundings as they heard the crack of an apparition. Their confusion was quickly answered, however, as they heard another crack, and another, and another. Had members of the Order come back? Had something happened?

The three whirled around and felt their guts sink to their feet.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and he whispered a guttural "No!" into the darkness. They dropped their packs to the ground and drew their wands. Having no place to hide on the open hilltop, Harry gave up the thought of running and shot a bright red stunning spell towards the nearest death eater. The spell lit up the air and there were streaks of light flying everywhere before the first stunned Death Eater even hit the ground.

The occupants of the house ran out into the yard and joined the fray. The sky was now almost as bright as day as spells flew every which way, and Harry felt his stomach churn as he heard the vicious laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. Things couldn't possibly get worse.

"Harry!"  
Harry jumped aside just as a jet of green light flew past him and hit a window, shattering the glass. Fred ran up to him and pulled him to his feet. "Watch yourself!" he said with a grin, shooting a body bind spell at who appeared to be the elder Goyle. The man fell to the ground with a fat thump.

Bellatrix noticed the duo and started towards them, an animal look in her eye. "Potter!" she shrieked over the cries of the fight. Harry and friend shot two stunning spells at her, which she flicked away with a cackle. Mr. Weasley saw the two boys, corned by Bellatrix and trying vainly to drive her away.

He ran quickly to their aid, sending a hex at Bellatrix, who let out a shout of rage as her arm was cut. "You!" she snarled, turning to Arthur, who moved in front of Harry and his son. "Run!" he yelled back at them. They hesitated, but then darted away, running to aid their friends as they looked back at Mr. Weasley.

Bellatrix sent of a killing curse, but Arthur dodged it, surprisingly swift for his age. Without really thinking, Harry and Fred whirled back around and ran to help him. They couldn't just leave him there. They sprinted across the yard and Arthur saw them out of the corner of his eye.

He took his eyes of Bellatrix for a moment and turned to yell at them. "NO! GO BACK!" he hollered, his eyes filled with a paternal protection.

Harry saw the spell before Mr. Weasley did. Bellatrix had taken the opportunity of Arthur's distraction to send it at him. Slowly, Mr. Weasley's eyes widened in realization and he turned as the streak of light hit him full in the face, knocking him back into the air as Harry and Fred screamed.

He hit the ground noiselessly and Bellatrix stared down at him with a malicious triumph.

Arthur Weasley was dead.

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**WAAAAAA!!!!!**

**Watch out Bellabitch! Voldie's gonna be mad at you! And so is Harry, I have a feeling. Beware, the next chapter is going to be extremely unpredictable. Something big's gonna happen! (le gasp!)**

**I'M SORRY, ARTHUR!!!!!**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	13. Contrition

**A/N: This song is one of my absolute favorites of all time, and it's PERFECT for how Voldemort and Harry are feeling right now.**

**A/N 2: Also, I wasn't exactly proud of the last chapter. It was kinda short but it was kind of a necessary transition into this next phase of this fanfic. This is where we really reach the emotionally stressed and action and event-packed part of Featherlight Taction. I hope you guys like it! **

**WARNING: This chapter contains torture.**

**And please keep reviewing! Your reviews keep me writing!**

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_And this is how it feels when I _

_ignore the words you spoke to me  
And this is where I lose myself _

_when I keep running away from you  
And this is who I am when, _

_when I don't know myself anymore  
And this is what I choose when _

_it's all left up to me_

_Breathe your life into me  
I can't feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me  
Breathe into me_

_And this is how it looks when _

_I am standing on the edge  
And this is how I break apart _

_when I finally hit the ground  
And this is how it hurts when I _

_pretend I don't feel any pain  
And this is how I disappear _

_when I throw myself away_

_Breathe your life into me  
I can't feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me_

_Breathe your life into me  
I can feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me_

_Breathe your life into me  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
falling, falling, falling  
Breathe into me  
_

_-Red – Breath Into Me_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 13- Contrition

Harry felt his heart plummet through a thousand worlds as he stared at Arthur Weasley's fallen form. Fred's pained sobs echoed in the back of his mind and all his memories of Mr. Weasley flooded his vision. All the things he did for him. All the advice he gave him. He had been like his father.

Ginny had noticed now. Her scream jolted Harry from his stupor and the rage that filled him now was so pure and unadulterated that if drugged him to the point of insanity. His wand was clenched in his fist but disregarded as he sped towards a gloating Bellatrix Lestrange. By the time she noticed his maddened approach, it was too late.

Harry tackled her to the ground, violently gripping her neck and squeezing as tightly as he could.

Even through her choking coughs and strangled movements, the demented witch managed a jagged smile. _Do it, _she was saying_, Go ahead._

He shoved his thumbs into her throat. She was clawing at his arms now, her wand forgotten on the ground. The world faded around him and he knew nothing but her dilating pupils and weak struggles for freedom. The malice he felt overwhelmed him and he almost feared himself.

What am I doing?

Her eyes twitched to the left and Harry jerked his head to see what her gaze had caught. Goyle flung a disarming spell straight into his face and he flew off of Bellatrix and into the wall of the Burrow. Lestrange got to her feet, grabbing her wand and coughing, all the while smiling at Harry.

He shuddered in revulsion under her stare. His forehead throbbed from where Goyle's spell had hit him. His wand had been flung across the yard, leaving him helpless and unprotected. He glanced over at Ron and Hermione. One of Ron's eyes was swollen shut and he was trying desperately to defend Hermione, who looked like she had a broken arm.

Remus and George were unconscious on the ground and Molly, Fleur, and Moody were protecting their unmoving forms as four masked Death Eaters tried to overpower them.

Harry couldn't see anyone else, but he could hear their shouts and see the light of their spells.

He was trapped.

Bellatrix and Goyle seemed to see this, and they began to smile, drawing nearer towards him. He began to panic and it was only at this point that he realized his glasses had fallen off somewhere, making the world slightly blurry. This only made him feel more vulnerable.

Suddenly, a jet of red light flew right past Goyle's lunkish head and Harry saw an eerily irate Fred Weasley, coming towards them. "Get up, Harry!" he yelled. "Run!"

Harry's vision flashed back to Mr. Weasley saying the same thing and a paralyzing fear hit him.

"You're the one who better run, Weasley!" Bellatrix screeched, raising her wand into the air.

"NO!" Harry bellowed, pushing himself of the ground and grabbing her arm to stop her.

She turned to him in surprise and her expression quickly melted into satisfaction. "Time to go! I've got him!" she cried. The Death Eaters stopped fighting at once and began disappearing into the night with loud, repetitive cracks. Harry realized with horror what she meant, and he tried to yank his arm away just as her claw-like grasp fastened around his wrist and they disappeared, Ron and Hermione's screams fading into the distance.

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Tom Riddle was currently leafing through an ancient dark arts literature, his red eyes narrowed as he scanned the pages in the firelight of the library. His shoulder twitched slightly in memory of the pain of Harry's Sectumsempra curse and he frowned.

Severus had healed his wounds the night he had received them, leaving not even a scar in their wake, but he still felt the echo of the feel of his own shredded flesh. It was like the tears were forever embedded there, even if they were physically gone. How could he have been so careless?

Why had he let the boy go?

Narcissa's question on the night of the battle at Malfoy manor had been true enough. Why _had_ he let Harry leave? Was it a display of weakness to let his enemy escape?

Harry had been at a vital moment of his agony when his companion had died. The Death Eaters had seen it as a perfect moment to crush the boy. Voldemort had seen it as possibly the most cowardly moment to strike.

And there had been something else.

Not guilt… but it was arrogant to deny that it was something akin to it. It had been in that moment when Harry had grabbed his robes. Voldemort had been stunned when he did not change, even though he had already guessed that it was and change of skin to skin contact. He couldn't help but feel a wretched disappointment and understanding that twisted his stomach unpleasantly.

Harry had been so close to him and yet so far away. At that moment, that Dark Lord had seen their separation and only become more confused at what he felt in regards to their never ending fight. In his separation from Harry, he felt separated from everything. When the boy had grabbed his robes and looked at him with those pained, angry eyes, Tom had lost all sense of who he was. He felt small and weak.

It had left him speechless and angry.

He tossed his book aside and rubbed his forehead.

"My Lord!"

Was that Lucius Malfoy? Why was he here?

"My Lord!" Lucius yelled again as he and Severus ran through the halls of the underground manor. He knew that Voldemort would not be pleased with his shouting, but he considered it important enough to take the risk of punishment. They had to save Potter. He couldn't say that, of course. The Dark Lord would not regard this as "saving" the teen. To him it would just be stabilizing a necessary factor. Nevertheless, they needed to find him; and they needed to find him quickly.

Tom Riddle appeared in the hall before them seconds later, and they skidded to a stop, bowing their heads and each mumbling a panting "Milord."

"What is it, Lucius?" Voldemort hissed, looking severely annoyed and vaguely curious.

"I am terribly sorry to announce myself like this," Lucius said, straightening.

"Well you best have a good reason," Tom replied harshly, looking at Severus.

The potions master stepped forward. "We have news that is of a most urgent matter, my Lord," he said, his voice deep and rasping. "It's Bellatrix Lestrange."

Voldemort scowled. This was bound to be unpleasant.

"She has voiced the desire to attack a group of Order of the Phoenix members," Snape continued, pausing and taking a deep breath before finishing his sentence. "And Harry Potter."

Riddle's eyes snapped to Severus' and his scowl deepened by the second. "She did what?" he whispered dangerously.

"She says she wishes to capture and torture him, my Lord," Lucius said, trying as best as he could to keep his face devoid of emotion. "She left thirty minutes ago."

"Why did you not come to me sooner?" Voldemort barked.

"We tried to go after her initially, but she eluded us. She said that she would first retrieve other Death Eaters, my Lord. And it also took us a while to find you."

The Dark Lord drew his wand and Lucius flinched, preparing himself for repercussion. Instead, Voldemort began walking briskly down the hall, beckoning for the two to follow him. "Where is she?" he growled, summoning his outer robes and stopping to put them on.

"There is a group of Order members with Harry Potter at the Weasley residence. It was for the funeral of the woman who died-"  
"I see," Tom said sharply, cutting the other wizard off. Without another word, he wrenched Lucius' left arm from his side and jabbed the man's dark mark with his wand roughly. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he said darkly.

The dark mark began to writher on Lucius' pale skin and an ethereal image floated up before them. Harry Potter was currently on top of Bellatrix, pinning her to the ground and his hand at her throat. They watched on in a morbid astonishment as he dug his fingers into her windpipe, his expression malicious and vengeful. The boy was hit in the face with a spell, suddenly, and he flew backwards. In mere moment, he had lunged back at Lestrange and the woman had grinned wickedly. They disappeared moments later and a vision of a dilapidated mansion appeared before them. Voldemort had seen enough.

He released the spell and frowned deeply. She had gone to her home, then. Brilliant.

"The Lestrange estate," Lucius muttered. "The anti-apparition ward is a mile long."

Voldemort began walking towards the entrance hall of the manor to disapparate. The tracker on the dark marks was not a present time locater, but one that reflected the memory of his Death Eaters. That meant that Bellatrix had already taken Potter ten minutes ago. He felt a cold desperation hit him and he faltered in his thoughts.

Why did he fear what she would do to the boy? Why was he so furious in his urgency to get there?

He shook his head. Because the Potter was HIS to kill! No one else's! It was as simple as that. Bellatrix's ridiculous impudence would not go unpunished. She would pay for this discrepancy.

If the anti-apparition ward at her manor was a mile long, he would need to get their quickly. Even the Dark Lord himself could not surpass such wards without a great deal of time on his hands.

"My Lord, we will come with you," Severus said as he and Lucius struggled to keep up with Voldemort's hurried pace.  
"No," Tom snapped, "I will deal with this _myself_."

The authoritarian look in his deep red eyes left no room for question, and Severus and Lucius bowed back with equal hesitance as the Dark Lord disapparated from the manor.

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Bellatrix's vice-like grip on Harry's arm didn't cease when they arrived in the middle of a field a ways from a large, black mansion. He looked around in a panic. No Death Eaters had followed. Why was it that these people always wanted to torture him alone?

In no time, she had drug him into the ominous building, grabbing a fistful of his hair and throwing him against the wall, where his head hit with a crack and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees.

Bellatrix laughed. "Poor Potty!" she crowed, sounding strangely like Peeves as she watched him with pleasure while he held his head in pain and struggled not to break down from his fear. She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him…

His hands traveled back to his pant pockets lamely.

"Ohh…" the older witch purred. "You don't have your wand, do you? Crucio!"

The curse hit Harry in the back and he let out a scream of agony, falling on his face and twisting around on the floor as she mercilessly pushed ten worlds of pain into his body. She lifted the curse with a shrill giggle and watched him with a delighted amusement as he tried to crawl away, spitting up some blood. Apparently he had bitten his lip.

"That won't work, precious!" she cooed, walking up to him and shoving the heel of her shoe into his lower back. Harry let out another cry of pain and rolled over, batting her foot away.

Bellatrix's grin quickly flashed to a scowl and she flicked her wand with another shout of "Crucio!"

Harry was shaking and screaming, his pain too much for him to comprehend now. His vision was turning black and he felt himself wishing for death. _Please let me die! Please!_ He begged silently to the heavens through his cries of anguish.

She didn't lift the curse for minutes, years, eternity… Harry was on the brink of consciousness, his voice too hoarse to scream anymore as his emerald eyes began to fade. Finally, she lifted it and her poisonous laughter filled the dark hall again.

"Poor, pathetic Potter," she spat. "You're more fun than the Longbottoms, and I_ really_ enjoyed that one."

"Fu…" Harry couldn't force the speech from his mouth as he breathed heavily, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep awake.

"What's that?" she asked, mocking, as she approached him and leaned over his seemingly broken form on the floor. She prodded his chest with her wand.

"Fu…" Harry's eyes snapped open and he glared venomously into her dark eyes. "_Fuck you_."

Her eyes went wild with rage and she smirked, dragging her wand slowly down his chest and stomach. Harry let out a yelp of shock and groaned in pain as the skin of his chest split open and his blood seeped into his blue shirt, staining it with a dark, crimson river.

"Watch your tongue, little boy," she hissed, "Or I might just silence it like that pitiful Weasley."

Harry's brain clicked on and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it with a wail of impassioned anger. She howled in pain as her wrist broke and he wrenched her wand from her hand. "You!" she spat, jumping at him fiercely.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry screamed with uncontrolled ire, feeling nothing but sickened rage as the hall filled with green and Bellatrix let out her last futile scream of evil before she fell to the floor, her eyes open and glassy.

Harry inexplicably became even more frightened and he crawled furiously away from the corpse, stopping at the end of the hall and huddling in the corner, staring at the dead woman with wide eyes as he cradled his legs. He began to rock back and forth, not bothering to look up when the front door slammed open and someone came inside. He was long gone now. His mind was empty. He had just killed someone…

Voldemort pushed the door to the mansion open with an excessive display of violence, peering into the main hall of the dank place. A few feet away a body was crumpled on the floor. Upon closer inspection he found it to be Bellatrix, and she was dead.

Immediately, his head shot up and he looked up and down the hall, freezing when his eyes caught a small figure in the shadows. He ventured near, slowly.

Harry's eyes were like disks, unblinking and unseeing. His eyes didn't leave Bellatrix's body as he rocked back and forth. The Dark Lord stared at the wand clutched in the teen's hand and knew what must have happened. He looked at Harry and saw blood on his arms and dripping down to the floor. The boy was hurt; badly so.

Without really knowing why he was doing so, Voldemort approached the traumatized wizard and knelt down on his knees, surveying the only other living person in the house like he was some sort of alien.

He'd never thought Harry capable of killing. Apparently, neither had Harry.

"Harry." Tom's voice was not gentle, but it was quiet. It broke through the silence like shattering glass.

Harry's head twitched and he let out a short whimper.

Voldemort's pale hand moved of its own accord, reaching slowly towards the trembling wizard. Without warning, Harry's hand shot out and grabbed it, and Tom felt the sweeping change overtake him. For a minute, he simply stared at his and Harry's hands. Potter's fingers were latched tightly around his own limp ones, squeezing them with a fierce intensity. Lethargically, Harry's head began to turn, stopping once his own wide eyes had met Riddle's. The boy's mouth was hanging open slightly, as if he had just screamed, and Voldemort was mesmerized by his empty expression.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Harry's face contorted into such a deep misery and pain that the Dark Lord was temporarily taken aback. Harry's eyes began to spill over with tears and he sobbed loudly, leaping forward and latching onto Tom roughly, his hands digging vehemently into Voldemort's robes and the bare skin of his left arm.

Tom was so shocked that he found himself unable to move as Harry sobbed and shuddered into his chest, clinging to him as if he would die otherwise. Riddle's arms hung in midair, as confused as their owner as the Boy Who Lived clutched him and soaked his robes through with tears. Soon enough, he realized that not only tears were soaking him, but blood, and he grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed the boy back.

Harry refused to let go of Voldemort's arm and stared at the point where their skin made contact. Tom ignored the belligerence and looked down at the young wizard's chest. It was drenched in blood, a huge gash etching its way down the soft flesh.

Riddle reached forward and touched the wound softly. Harry jerked back, his eyes round. Tom grabbed the teen's wrist just as he retracted, keeping the transformation intact. He stared purposefully into Harry's sage orbs, and slowly, Harry relaxed and looked away.

Voldemort drew his wand, not missing the flinch on Harry's face. Slowly, he ran it just above the gash, murmuring an elaborate incantation. Harry's skin began to seal up and he gasped in pain as the wound closed itself. The gasp turned to a sigh when the healing was finished, and Harry let out a deep breath of relief when his pain faded away.

Hi relief was short-lived. With the loss of pain came the gain of senses, and, without pulling away, Harry turned to face the dark haired wizard beside him.

He did not need to ask the question that etched itself so deeply in his countenance. Voldemort looked away, becoming painfully aware once more of where he held Harry's wrist. He knew he should let go, but as soon as he did, Harry would once more regard him with that hateful disgust.

For some reason, he didn't want to see Harry look at him that way. Harry's hand twitched a little in Tom's grip and the older man turned back to face him. The boy's messy hair was in a tangle around his face, shielding his scar from view. His eyes were rich and deep with thought and contemplation as he looked at Tom, almost inspecting the man. It was like he was looking for some kind of proof that this was really the Dark Lord in front of him and not some imposter.

Tom felt the strong need to prove himself, but what he did was most likely the opposite of what would assure Harry that he was Lord Voldemort. He tugged Harry's arm and pulled him forward, crushing his lips down on the shocked teen's with a dark intensity.

Harry's eyes slid close in both weakness and the overwhelming sensation of Tom's sheer determination that poured into the kiss. He stayed limp as Voldemort ravaged his lips for the second time in a month.

But something was different about this time, Harry noticed. This time it wasn't violent and bruising, but forceful and passionate. His arm reached up and grabbed the Dark Lord's tightly; not quite an embrace, but close enough to one for the circumstances.

Still, he didn't kiss back. He just allowed Tom to continue as he held onto the older man for balance.

Voldemort's mind was reeling, he'd never felt lips like Harry's and though he was thoroughly disgusted with himself, he never wanted to let go. He just… couldn't. His tongue dove into Harry's mouth; once, twice, and a third time, and he finally pulled away, taking Harry's lower lip with him before letting it go with a soft snap.

Harry's eyes were shut tightly and Tom simply stared at them until they opened slowly and looked up at him. This time, the question held within the emerald depths was stronger.

Why?

Voldemort sighed and looked at Harry for one last second before he shoved the boy backwards into the wall, standing as his reptilian self. It took a few moments for Harry's face to fall back into its normal expression.

Voldemort looked at the front door, refusing to look at the teen any longer. He knew full well that Harry's expression didn't _really_ hold its usual malice, and that's precisely why he didn't want to see it anymore. The hate needed to be there. It was supposed to be, damn it.

Voldemort was suppose to hate Harry and Harry was suppose to hate him. It was the way of things. The taste of Harry lingered in his mouth and he clenched a pale fist tightly.

"Go now or I will kill you," the Dark Lord said shortly, not looking at the wizard beside him.

Harry stared at the snake-like man for another moment, not believing the threat for a second. Still, after one last look--his retinas still burning with the image of Tom Riddle--he limped silently out of the mansion, leaving Voldemort behind and walking off into the night.

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"Harry! Oh my god!"

Harry collapsed onto the lawn of the Burrow. He had just apparated there with the last of his energy. He was completely spent now.

Hermione, the twins, and Ron all ran up to him. Hermione's arm was in a splint and she used her uninjured hand to roll her exhausted friend onto his back. She gasped when she saw his ripped, blood soaked shirt and inspected his skin.  
"I'm fine," he breathed, trying to get up.

She looked at him worriedly and the twins knelt down and hooked their arms under his, lifting him up gently and helping him towards the house.

"How did you escape?" Ron asked as he followed them to the house. "Are you okay?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he stared blankly at the grass where Mr. Weasley's body had laid. It wasn't there anymore. They must have moved it. How long had he been gone?

"How did you escape from Bellatrix, Harry?" Hermione repeated Ron's question, her eyes lit with worry.

"I killed her," Harry replied blandly, his eyes half-lidded. The twins stopped in their tracks for a moment, causing Harry to stumble. They quickly picked up their pace again and helped Harry through the doorway. Suddenly he remembered himself and he pulled away, turning to the three Weasleys. "Guys… I'm so sorry," he said throatily. Their faces flushed in sadness and they gave him matching, weak smiles.  
Wordlessly, Ron wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders in a sort of hug while Hermione took his hand on his other side. Together, the five walked into the sitting room where Remus and Molly stood quickly, rushing forward to them, their faces stained with misery and tears.

Harry looked at them all quietly as his vision began to blur more strongly. He still didn't have his glasses. Funny how he could care less.

He blinked, but when his eyes reopened his vision was blackened. He shook his head weakly, the voices of those around him lost as he succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness.

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**Wow! Two chapters in 1 day! Fancy that!**

**I hope this chappie made up for chapter 12. I'm really starting to grow attached to this story. Gosh…**

**And I'm sorry for all the drama and angst, but it's necessary. This is a war slash romance tragic kind thing, after all.**

**REVIEW OR PERISH!!!**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	14. Avoidance

**Ckret2: I'm gonna quote this review so y'all know what I'm answering. **

"**By the way, I'm just wondering, how much of this do you have planned out?**

**Rough outline, know every detail, or you're making it up on your way from**

**point A to point B? I'm not trying to worm any spoilers out of you or anything**

**(I hate spoilers, hee), I'm just curious about your creation process,**

**especially since you're putting out chapters so quickly."**

**To answer that question: **

**A lot of people have asked me this, especially when I was writing 'A Potion' way back when. When I write fics, I immediately start out in the fic knowing **_**exactly**_** how I want it to end and the major plot points in between. However, I don't fill in the details. I hate planning out things more than is necessary or the plot will end up becoming bland and won't have any flow to it. So, every major event is already decided, but the stuff that happens in between them and even the way they happen are not planned until the moment I write them.**

**I don't write a chapter until I feel inspiration for it. For some reason, I've just been hit with a crapload of inspiration for this fic, apparently, so that's why I've been uploading chapters so quickly. **

**I always love hearing what people want to see in the fic, and if it fits with the main plot, I'll often try to sate those desires, so you can always feel free to make suggestions. Maybe your suggestion will inspire the next chapter!**

**I have a strange feeling that this fic is going to be really frickin long compared to my normal writing style. I mean, this already has more words than my longest complete fic of 13 chapters!**

**A/N: By the by, guys, I'd like to correct an impression that come of you are getting. This is NOT going to be a Dark!Harry story. He might have some dark contemplations and do some dark things, but this isn't an anti-boywholived story. Yes, I've had him use some unforgivables in dire situations, but you'll see that they affect him and wear on him terribly, and he is, through all the angst and darkness, the hero.**

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_Wake up, medicate, again  
Ever after is a friend  
But you and I we get so high  
We never quite came down  
Ever after again_

_What could be more beautiful than you  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away_

_Light my past on fire  
Spell it right in black and white  
A coward's here for hire_

_What could be more beautiful than you  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away_

_It's beautiful, slipping away_

_It's time to pack up and vacate  
I'm so fed up of closing up  
And running from myself_

_What could be more beautiful than you  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away_

_Wake up, medicate, again  
'Cause ever after is my friend_

_-Thornley - Beautiful_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter- Avoidance

It was almost two weeks before Harry, Ron, and Hermione found it in themselves to leave the Burrow. They'd had two funerals in two weeks and the forced happiness that had once been there was no longer present. All that was left was a sober tenderness and understanding empathy that drifted in and out of the windows and onto the snow-covered hills.

Moody had been unable to stand the sadness, so he'd left as soon as Arthur's funeral was finished, occupying himself with unofficially helping out Aurors in Death Eater captures. Remus had forced himself to stay for Harry's sake, but his deathly silence had been more of a hindrance than a help to the disoriented teen.

Harry and his two companions had spent most of their time in Ron's room, coming down only to eat and assure the others that they were still alive. They tried as best they could to plan on their next move without remembering the deaths that had so closely preceded their journey. They were to go to Hermione's parents' cabin out in the mountains. From there they could figure out how to get back into the Malfoy manor and find any horcruxes that might be hidden there.

They had decided also, to plan it more thoroughly this time, and not to ask for help.

"Tonight's the night," Harry said softly, looking out of the window beside his bed. Ron nodded and Hermione sighed.

"I've almost finished preparations," Hermione stated, gesturing towards Harry's rucksack. "I've shrunk all of our potions and books and other supplies in there. It should last us for quite a while."

"What would we do without you, 'Mione?" Ron inquired fondly, staring up at the ceiling of his room.

The young witch blushed. "Don't be silly, Ronald. It's all quite simple."

Ron snorted. "To you, maybe."

This is how the conversations had been as of late. Ever since Harry had returned from his capture by the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, the trio had restricted their conversation to planning and banter; nothing more. Harry lamented the loss of deeper conversation, but he knew if he tried to instigate any sort of discussion, he would be immediately drilled with thousands of questions.

Besides, what was he supposed to tell them? How could he tell them that… that he had used the Avada Kedavra. That he had_ killed _someone… How could he tell them that?

He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Compared to the other tidbit of information, his killing Bellatrix seemed so rudimentary and unimportant. Twice now, Voldemort had kissed him. Both times Harry had stood by and done nothing. He had let him.

That would be even harder to tell Ron and Hermione than the fact that he had killed someone. He scoffed internally. The realization that he thought more on the kiss than the fact that a death had come by his own hands hit him like a slug in the gut.

Was he really that horrible of a person? Sure, Bellatrix more than had it coming, but still… she was still human. Why was his contact with Tom Riddle weighing so much more heavily on his mind? To think about it too strongly would be to admit that it had affected him. It would admit that he had reacted with more than revulsion.

If he thought about it too strongly, he would realize that he was reliving the moment in the mansion over and over again in his dreams. That was a realization he didn't want to come to. This whole thing was something he didn't understand, and he didn't _want_ to understand. If he admitted that, in a way, he hadn't been entirely repulsed by Voldemort's actions, than what did that mean? Did that make him a terrible person? Did that make him disgusting? Did that mean…

Harry stood suddenly, forcing down his thoughts with a fierce mentality. "We've only got a few more hours," he stated, not looking at his friends.

He heard them shift as they nodded and he tried to settle the turmoil of emotions within his chest.

He was sick of thinking. It only led to pain.

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Draco sat by the lakeside of his manor, staring over the still water in silence. His grey eyes blinked slowly, and the reflections of the green water shone in them and he lost himself in his thoughts. His hand gripped his left forearm tightly and his small mouth was twisted into somewhat of a weak frown.

His left eye was still a bit black and the cuts on his face and chest were still healing. The Dark Lord had been furious that day when Harry Potter had broken into the manor. He had blamed the young Malfoy, and as such, he had tortured him for hours on end. He hadn't even been merciful enough to use Crucio. No, Voldemort had felt a need for severing charms and slow, agonizing torments.

The strange things was, though, that once the monster had finished his anguished inflictions and Draco's mother sobbed in the corner of the room as his father held her and watched on miserably, he had healed most of Draco's wounds. As the pale blonde had lain there, shivering and sputtering up blood, the reptilian Lord had walked over to him slowly and raised his wand. Draco cringed, fearing more retaliation, but instead of cruel pain, he felt the cool soothing of healing charms as they sew him back together. No longer were his wounds gushing vengefully, threatening his death. They were just slight lacerations now, and as Draco sat out on the grass a few weeks later, he found that they didn't hurt anymore.

The only thing that really hurt was the memory. But, mercifully, the memory of pain is never as bad as the moment you feel it. At least… that was how it worked for physical pain. Other pains were a different story.

Draco let himself fall back into the grass with a thump and he thought back to the day Severus Snape had come to visit them a while back.

"I'm here to talk about something regarding the lion," the man had said.

Lucius had immediately put a silencing charm on the room afterwards, but Draco didn't need to hear any more. He wasn't stupid and it was easy for him to make the connection. Lion… Gryffindor… Potter.

He stared into the slowly moving clouds and sighed. He hadn't seen Potter in almost a year now. The last he remembered was fighting with him at school about… something. He couldn't remember what. Merlin, their fights had been so ridiculous. He smiled, not fondly, but reminiscently, and he thought back to the numerous squabbles he and Harry had gotten into over the years.

They were both so proud that they were bound to fight. It was only natural for the two competitive spirits to clash with one another, but through all the heated insults and assurances of hate, Draco didn't really hate Potter.

No, he didn't like him either, not in the least; but he did respect him, somewhat. And he also silently relied on the other teen. Into the darkness of lonely nights and frightening times when he faced the Dark Lord himself, Draco hoped with the little strength that remained within him that Harry Potter would win this war and defeat Voldemort once and for all.

It was a hope that echoed through everyone these days, dark and light alike. And thought some would not admit this wish, it was still there being considered, along with its formidable and unforgettable question.

What would it be like to no longer live in fear?

And… can Harry Potter truly be the one to bring upon the world that freedom?

If Potter really was the one to do that; if what the whispered secrets and rumors said were true… then Draco wanted to make sure that Potter succeeded. He knew that now, with the Dark Lord's clutches so firmly upon him, he could do very little to aid the boy. Though Draco did not want to admit it, he was virtually powerless now; left to follow his father and mother as they shielded him as much as they could from the wrath of their master.

All he could at the moment was wait and play his part. All he could do now was stare at the clouds until an opportunity arose.

So that's what he did. And for hours upon endless hours, Draco stared at the sky… hoping.

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Quietly, the trio crept out onto the yard of the Burrow. Night had fallen and they'd waited until the occupants of the house had fallen into a restless sleep.

Harry looked out over the hills and up at the starry sky before turning back to glance at the Weasleys' house once more. His eyes met with ones that mirrored the moon. It was Remus.

The werewolf was eyeing him calmly, not the least bit surprised as a pensive sadness overtook his ragged features. A muggle cigarette was pinched between the fingers of his right hand, and he took a drag, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

Ron and Hermione had noticed him too, and they stood behind Harry, bowing their heads in embarrassment for sneaking out.

"I didn't know you smoked." Harry couldn't think of anything else to say, so that was what came out of his mouth.

Remus didn't respond, but he smiled softly, still looking at the trio with a despondent expression that contrasted with his smile harshly.

"I…we…" Harry trailed off and looked away, his eyes finding the cursed spot where Arthur Weasley had fallen. His heart jerked in his chest and he felt immeasurably guilty again.

"I know," Remus said, shocking Harry from his guilt. He'd almost expected the man not to speak. Lupin rose from his chair and put out the cigarette on a plate. One hand in his sweater pocket, he walked over to Harry and his friends, smiling, in turn, at each one of them before resting his gaze on the miserable, dark-haired one in the middle.

His eyes turned towards the skies for a minute, and if looking for all the friends he had lost, and then he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. Leaning down, he whispered into the messy locks, "Be safe."

Harry returned the hug, burying his head into the older man's chest for a second before pulling away and forcing his heartbeat to slow. "Goodbye," he choked out quiescently, his eyes closed.

"We'll meet again, I promise," Remus replied, warmth shining through his eyes.

Harry smiled, in earnest, and looked at his old teacher and friend for a deep breath before the three of them waved and turned away and linked arms to disapparate.

They appeared where Hermione had told them they would. It was a beautiful forest, with tall, lean trees and fanning red ferns and whispers of fog. To their right was a large stone house, windows dark and chimney empty of smoke.

"This is it," Hermione said, trying to force a happy smile. The two boys smiled back and grabbed either one of her hands.

"We'll be fine," Harry said, looking back at the cabin.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, doing the same.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, her hands clasping tightly around her companions' hands. "I know."

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Lucius Malfoy watched his son from the window of the house kitchen. The boy was sitting by the lake, staring up into the heavens. Lucius wished to join him, momentarily, but he knew that he would have to save that for another day—one far from this one.

He looked down at his untouched firewhiskey and shook his head, picking up the glass and pouring it back into the bottle. He needed to have all of his senses about him today. He was to be making a trip to the Ministry and speak to his contacts. There was much to be planned.

Severus was currently searching for his Order of the Phoenix ties, so he would be out of contact for a few days. Hopefully the Dark Lord would not notice the short absence. Severus had likely come up with a good excuse. He always did.

Lucius ran a slim finger along the bottom of his glass, gathering up the spare whiskey. Placing the finger to his lips, his licked of the small bit of alcohol and savored the taste. It wasn't one he particularly liked, but it reminded him of the calmness that was often associated with the drink. He considered having a drink again, but he quickly shook it off.

He had a rebellion to ensue. Now was not the time for whiskey.

Now was the time for revolution.

Save the whiskey for later.

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_They were a pile of flesh and clothes now. Tossing and turning over the floor, their mouths ravaged one another's as they drank each other like wine. _

_Harry let out a gasp as Tom slid his fingers up the boy's chest. He slid his hands through the older man's hair, twisting them into his dark locks and opening half-lidded emerald eyes._

_Tom felt every inch of Harry's chest with his lips, savoring the feel of the soft flesh against his own as the young wizard writhed against him. _

"_Harry…" he moaned._

--

Tom Riddle forced his red eyes open and stared at the stone ceiling above him, his thin hands gripping his sheets tightly and sweat traveling down his snake-like face. He let out a low, frustrated groan and sat up, flicking his hands so the torches on the walls would ignite.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pulled his robes from the side table and threw them on. He'd been having dreams like these ever since the night at the Lestrange estate. He cursed himself both aloud and mentally for the slipup. How could he have lost control like that?!

He plastered a dark scowl onto his face, his vertically slit eyes narrowing as he swept out of his quarters. To have kissed Harry once was ridiculous enough, but twice? He had gone too far; and he had enjoyed it far too much.

He had to come to terms with the fact that yes, he held a certain attraction towards Potter. Why? He did not know. Never before would he have even considered such a thing. It was asinine!

But now it wasn't so preposterous as it should be. Perhaps the attraction had arisen from that day in the courtyard. No… it had been after that. When, he could not place his finger on it… but it had begun same as the intrigue of being able to feel his own flesh. When Harry had given that to him, however unwillingly he had done so, something had awoken underneath the jade flesh that held the Dark Lord where he was.

That something was a deep longing and passion that he had put away in the shadows long ago. It was an emotion that he did not need nor desire, and it infuriated him that he was succumbing to it every time the boy was near now.

How weak must he be to lose his senses as he did! It was pathetic! He whirled around and slammed his fist into the stone wall. His skin ripped under the force, but this only angered him more, and he let his fist stay there as he rest his forehead against the unforgiving, cold stone. His teeth were bared at the floor and his breath came in short, deep heaves.

"Potter," he growled.

_What is this spell you have put me under?_

That was what he had asked the first time he had kissed him. It was true. He was under some sort of spell. Voldemort was no longer himself, and he knew it. How had one boy so easily resurfaced the regret that the Dark Lord harbored for his actions? How is it that Harry could so quickly and unintentionally bring back the passion that Tom had once had? He wasn't meant to have these feelings! He wasn't meant to have _any_ feelings!

Voldemort let his hand fall to his side. His knuckles were bleeding, but he ignored them as his forehead held him against the wall. "What…spell have you put me under?" he whispered throatily. "What have you done to me?"

"Master?" A hesitant voice.

The Dark Lord pushed himself from the wall and straightened, brushing off his robes before turning to the intruder on his thoughts. "Yes, Wormtail?"

Pettigrew half bowed and half groveled as he came forward. "I have been informed that Lestrange's body was disposed of, as you ordered," he said, sniveling, as usual. "And Snape," he choked on the name, looking disgusted. "Has asked me to tell you that he had gotten a possible lead on "your situation" and will be gone for a few days." At the sudden icy glare that surfaced on the Dark Lord's eyes, Wormtail let out a little cry and shrunk back, thinking he had said something wrong.

"Good," Voldemort said flatly, walking past the cowering man, who looked up in a mixture of surprise and relief. He spotted Voldemort's bleeding knuckles.

"Master, your hand-"

"I can take care of it," Tom dismissed him sharply, not looking back as he rounded the corner and set off towards his library.

If Severus had truly found a lead, then maybe he could soon get rid of this… affliction and no longer need to worry about it. That way he could focus on victory and power. That was what he truly needed to concentrate on: Success. That was the only thing that was important. Everything else he would ignore.

It was as simple as that.

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_They were on the floor, their mouths battling with each other in a heated kiss. Harry reached up and ran his hands through the Riddle's hair, gasping as the older wizard ran slim hands up his chest._

_Lips were skimming his abdomen, leaving burning trails in their wake. Harry moaned and twisted up against the body against him just as Tom groaned._

"_Harry…"_

--

Harry woke up violently, shooting up in bed and panting furiously. His sheets were twisted around his legs so tightly it was as if he'd been recently mummified, and he mentally slapped himself when he realized that this time he had woken up too late. His boxers clung to his skin from the evidence of his dream.

His eyes shot to the window. He could barely see out into the forest. It was still dark. Thankfully there had been enough rooms in the house for the trio to sleep separately, so at least they hadn't heard him. He could be grateful for that much.

It was only at this point that he noticed the burning throb of his scar. No… that wasn't possible.

_Have you ever dreamt of a room with a fireplace?_

Had that dream not been his own? Had it been shared?

Harry shivered, the sweat trailing down his bare back catching the draft of the winter cold. This had only been the second dream like this that he'd had about Voldemort, but he felt like he'd had hundreds of them. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried desperately not to recall the burning kisses of Tom's mouth against his skin.

His hands reached up and fisted into his hair, pulling at it desperately. Why? What the hell was happening to him?! So many questions raced through his mind that he felt overwhelmed and angry.

He disentangled himself from his sheets and threw himself off of the bed, tiptoeing over to the door and peering out of it to make sure he wasn't spotted in such a state. Ron and Hermione's doors were both closed. He sighed and rushed over to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him and turning on the faucet to the shower.

As he sat down on the toilet and waited for the room to fill up with steam, his mind drifted back, not to the dream, but to the look on Tom Riddle's face that night two weeks ago. It had been so emotional and… passionate.

Was Voldemort even capable of such emotions?

And if he was, why had they surfaced because of Harry?

What was this tug in his chest; this dizziness in his mind? Harry clutched at his shoulders and shut his eyes tightly as the steam from the shower began to stint his breathing.

Finally, he stood and peeled of his shorts, tossing them aside and stepping into the shower. Maybe the hot water would wash it all away—all his fears and confusions and thoughts.

He let the water fall onto his face in torrents, washing down his skin and pushing off all the dirt and remnants of his dream; but it didn't push away his thoughts. Nothing could.

And no matter how hard he tried, he could not remove the image of Lord Voldemort, staring down the hall and refusing to look at him, red eyes set with as much confusion as his own.

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**NYACK! –flies away-**

--

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	15. Damaged

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to put this up—at least it felt long to me…. I worked really hard on the PLOT. And –gasp!- I waited until I had at least TWO chapters written before I uploaded! So you get two chappies today! Oh, and school has started as well, but I've hardly any classes, so that shouldn't change much.**

**Ckret2: Merlin, I love your reviews. I thoroughly enjoy them and I'm supremely thrilled to have you as one of my readers. Many thanks for your awesome reviews, and keep 'em coming! **

**That goes for the rest of your too! I love all of your reviews and without them I would melt into a puddle of nothingness!**

**NOTHINGNESS, I SAY!!!**

**Read now.**

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_I think im drowning  
Asphyxiating  
I wanna break the spell  
That you've created_

_You're something beautiful  
A contradiction  
I wanna play the game  
I want the friction_

_You will be  
The death of me  
Yeah, you will be  
The death of me_

_Bury it  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it_

_Our time is running out  
Our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out_

_I wanted freedom  
Bound and restricted  
I tried to give you up  
But I'm addicted_

_Now that you know I'm trapped  
Sense of elation  
You'd never dream of breaking this fixation  
You will squeeze the life out of me_

_Bury it  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it_

_And our time is running out  
And our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
you can't stop it screaming out  
how did it come to this?_

_And you will suck the life out of me_

_Bury it  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it_

_And our time is running out  
And our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out_

_How did it come to this?_

_-Muse – Our Time is Running Out_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 15- Damaged

Severus Snape lingered in the cold of the snowy day, standing in the shadows of the large trees in the forest of Hogsmeade. It was night, and the dark sky echoed a blue tinge onto the blanket of snow that covered the ground, emanating an eerie hue into the late hours. There was no need to hide himself more than he was. Shop owners had long since gone to bed and the patrons of the town had also settled down for the night. Besides, he needed to be found, so hiding would do him no good.

He cupped his gloved hands around his mouth and blew into them, trying to warm his face a bit. Sadly, as soon as he removed his hands, the wet heat turned to an icy cold on his long nose and he felt the annoying throb of the low temperature mock him.

Shoving his hands into his cloak pockets, he ignored the discomfort and looked around in a slight impatience.

Where was she?

He rolled his eyes and shuffled his feet a bit to stay warm. Trust her to be late. She'd probably act like she was early and that he was merely crazy. Too bad she was the crazy one. Still, she was his contact on all things about the Order of the Phoenix, and he had no room to judge her eccentricities at the moment. Of anything, he was grateful to her for being wise enough through all of her idiosyncrasies to realize that he was still on the Order's side, regardless of the fact that he was Dumbledore's unwilling murderer.

He heard a crunch of snow from behind him and started, turning around.

"Why in the world are you coming from that direction?" Severus inquired gruffly, looking past her into the depths of the forest.

Luna Lovegood smiled broadly, her radish earrings shaking from where they dangled. She pulled her wool mittens on a bit more tightly around her pale hands and cocked her blonde head to the side. "I wanted to visit the thestrals first, of course," she said, as if this fact was most obvious.

Severus shook his head, deciding not to broach the subject further. "News?" he asked finally, turning his dark gaze back to the empty streets of Hogsmeade, barely visible through the trees.

"Oh, there's quite a lot of it, actually," Luna replied airily, plopping down onto the ground suddenly, looking quite pleased with herself for no apparent reason.

Severus stared. "Isn't that cold?"

"Cold?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"You're sitting in a pile of snow."

Luna looked down at where she sat. "Yes, I am, Professor," she said, sounding quite surprised. "Thank you for noticing." She didn't move to get up, so Severus merely shook his head and let it pass.

They had been meeting to exchange information for five months now. Severus had been in an obscure apothecary shop of the edge of Surrey, and Luna had happened to walk in just as he let his guard down to search for some rare ingredients. Apparently she was a regular shopper at Piddle Toadsworth's Rare Apothecary. He should have known. She saw through his soft disillusionment quite easily, much to his surprise, and had stated in her normal airy fashion that she knew perfectly well that he had not wanted to kill the Headmaster in the least.

When he had later asked her how she was so sure that he was good, she had simply replied: "I just know these sort of things, you see."

Yet, even after five long months, Severus was still not wholly used to her strange personality. The girl truly was a oddity, even in the wizarding world.

Severus sighed and leaned his back against a near tree, staring up into the sky. He didn't bother asking Luna for news again. She would speak in a few moments anyway. One thing he had learned through all her quirks was that, though she exuded an air of patience, she could not stand silence.

"Neville and Ginny are planning on leaving the school soon," she said quietly, following his gaze to the stars. "Many of the other DA members wish to go as well. I said I'd join them. I believe it's time."

"Can you get them to wait a bit longer?" Severus said, lowering his eyes to look at her. "It's too soon."  
"Well we've still got a bit of planning to do," Luna answered, fingering one of her earrings absently. "It should take a few days. Maybe even a few weeks." She chuckled sweetly. "But honestly, Mister Snape, it won't take that long."

Severus allowed himself a smirk. "That's what you get when Gryffindors are running it all," he said. "I'll tell the Death Eaters that you're uprising, but I'll lead them in the wrong direction. It should be enough to jostle them a bit, if anything. Where will you be heading?"

"We'll most likely find Harry," Luna responded, shrugging with a smile. "After all, he is our leader."

Severus nodded. "And what will you do when you find him?"

Luna was quiet for a moment, her eyes traveling once more up to the sky. "I think then we'll fight, Sir."

Severus nodded again. He felt almost like a muggle bobble-head, but it was all he could think to do. He would never admit it, but he was worried about them. They were just children; and, after all, he had taught them for years. He felt a sort of obligation to protect them.

"Don't worry," the young blonde said, not looking at him. "We'll be fine. They're strong."

"I know," Snape answered, flexing his hands in his deep pockets. "The Death Eaters are steering clear of Potter right now. He killed Bellatrix Lestrange. You might due to let Longbottom know of that." Luna nodded, her soft face peaceful and understanding. The potions master continued, his voice heavy in the cold. "You should be safe once you reach him, but I can only guarantee so much safety of passage until that point."

Luna stood and Severus looked down at her, his eyebrows raised. She rested her arms behind her back and walked in front of him, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes. "Don't worry," she said. "It will be alright."

Severus looked at her for a moment, his face blank. He forced his expression into an annoyed sneer and looked away. "Of course it will, you silly girl."

"I like being silly," Luna replied, spinning around in the snow. "Order members have been coming to the castle quite frequently now, you know. I think they're planning something."

This caught the wizard's attention, and he focused his ebony eyes on her, listening.

"Of course, I think they might just be mourning," she continued, stopping her twirling. "Tonks and Mr. Weasley have died. I'm sure you knew that already."

Severus frowned. "I did not know of Arthur's death."

"I wasn't there, but Ginny said that Harry had gone mad when it happened," Luna said thoughtfully. "Said she'd never seen him like it."

Snape felt a heavy feeling in his gut. Potter was bound to snap soon. Who wouldn't in such circumstances? He forced the thoughts out of his mind. It wouldn't do to pity the boy right now. "Do you know what they might be planning?" he asked.

Luna shook her head. "We've been focusing so much on the DA that it's been rather difficult to do anything else. They are being very secretive, too. Neville said that we don't stand a chance at eavesdropping without Fred and George's help. I suggested we use severed billywig, but they disagreed."

"Well that's—wait… severed billywig?" Severus stopped short. "What would-? No, never mind. Don't tell me." He raised a hand to silence her as she opened her mouth to reply. It wasn't worth it. "Look, this will be my last visit."

This time it was Luna who was nodding. "Yes, I thought that might be the case," she said lightly.

"Lucius Malfoy is your ally," Severus said, eyeing her severely.

"Is he?" Luna asked, visibly surprised.

"Yes. Should he present himself to you, you have no need to fear him," Severus said, pulling a hand from his pocket and reaching into his robes. "He will try to help you, but you cannot reveal his loyalties." Luna nodded again, the bobble-head syndrome turning to her. "However, even with both of us trying to aid you, we can only do so much." At this point, Severus withdrew three identical vials, each with shimmering golden liquid within them. "This is Felix Felacis potion. I'm sure you're familiar with it?"

Luna's eyes widened with delight. "Oh yes! We used a bit of it last year when… we fought! It worked wonders."

Severus' expression turned grave and he handed her the three vials. "When you begin your travels, use it, but do not waste it. This was all I could spare. The luck should hold true to all who consume a mere sip of it, so it should keep you safe."  
Luna took the vials delicately, holding them with great care. "Thank you very much, Mister Snape," she said happily. "This was very kind of you."

Severus stepped back and looked away. "Just don't be foolish," he grumbled. "And Potter is no longer at Grimmauld Place. They did not return there after Christmas; but where they went, I do not know."

Luna smiled and cradled the potions to her chest. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," Snape said, waving his hand as if batting away her thanks so it wouldn't touch him. "Your information has been most useful."

"I was happy to help. It's what Dumbledore would have wanted, after all," she said, her sparkling eyes disturbingly similar to that of the late Headmaster's.

"Yes." Severus reached out a gloved hand and Luna met it with a mittened one. "Good luck."

The witch giggled and shook his hand firmly. "Good luck to you too, Sir."

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Harry poked at his eggs, staring at them rather disdainfully.

"What did the eggs do to you, Harry?" Ron asked, looking over at his best friend with a mixture of amusement and worry.

Harry glanced up at the redhead, obviously perplexed by the question. "Huh?"

Ron rolled his eyes playfully. "You're glaring at them like they just sentenced you to the Dementor's kiss."

Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm just tired. Long night."

"Well don't apologize to me, mate," Ron answered, pointing at Harry's eggs. "Apologize to them."

Harry grinned and leaned forward, plastering a dramatized serious expression on his features. Staring straight at the eggs, he said in a low voice: "I'm very sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Why on Earth are you apologizing to your breakfast, Harry?" Hermione inquired incredulously as she walked out of her room, her hair in a ponytail and some rolls of parchment under her arm.

Harry blushed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in a small pout. "Ron made me do it," he mumbled.

"Did not! Ow!" Ron shrank down in his chair as Hermione swatted him with one of her rolls of parchment.

"Behave, you two. You're like toddlers," Hermione stated, trying to hold back a smile. "Really, now."

"What are all those papers?" Harry asked, finally deeming his eggs worthy of consumption and scooping some onto his fork.

"Well this," Hermione pulled open one of the rolls, displaying a blueprint, of sorts. "Is a sketch of what we saw of the Malfoy house when we were there before."

Ron peered over at her work. "Wow, 'Mione," he grunted through a bite of sausage. "Thas wally good."

"Oh, it's just a sketch. I had very little to go on," Hermione scoffed, pointing at her drawing of the entranceway of the manor. "We only saw the outside and the entrance, so we saw hardly anything. All we found out was our choices of where we could go when we start out."

She moved her finger upwards and the boys leaned in for a closer view. "The stairs to the second floor are directly in front of the entrance door. They most likely lead to all the private rooms, such as bedrooms and offices."

She waited for the boys to nod before she continued. "And here," her finger slid to the right. "Was a big door. It was closed, so who knows what could be in there. Maybe it's their dining hall or a ballroom or something."

The boys snickered. "Figures Malfoy would have a ballroom," Ron snorted.  
"It's a mansion, Ronald," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "Most mansions have large rooms like that. Anyway," her finger moved just to the left of the staircase. "It looks like this is a hall. I didn't really get a good look down it, but I think I saw a small doorway down to the right of it. And here," she moved further left. "This was a wide doorway. I could see perfectly into the room. It was some sort of study. By the looks of it, it wasn't connected to any other room, so it must be this portion sticking out on the outside." She indicated the outside drawing of the mansion. "By the looks of the outside, the house goes really far back and to the right from where we were."

"Merlin, Hermione," Harry groaned, thoroughly surprised. "You've got a hell of a memory."

Hermione leveled him with a strict glare. "It was necessary, Harry. This is serious. If we get this wrong, one of us could die this time."

The two wizards frowned and looked down at their plates. Hermione lightened up a bit, sensing the tension. "Look, we just have to prepare more this time, and we have to do it right in case Voldemort is there again."

Harry's head shot up and his heart began to race. "He won't be there, will he?" he asked, trying to hide his panic. "I mean, it was just a freak coincidence, right?"

Hermione looked at him strangely. "Well… it's always possible Harry," she said slowly, "I mean, Lucius Malfoy _is_ one of his top Death Eaters."

Harry calmed down and shut his eyes tightly. "Yeah, sorry. I… I just don't want that to happen again." His voice was gravelly, and Hermione mistook it for sadness. She reached out and patted his arm soothingly.

"We'll do it right this time, Harry, I promise."

Harry nodded and swallowed dryly.

"Besides, I have a plan," Hermione said, pulling back and withdrawing a large bottle from within her parchments.

"Wh-where were you keeping that?" Ron spluttered, looking at her as if she'd just pulled a rabbit out of the papers and not just a bottle.

Hermione ignored him and sat the clear bottle on the table. It was three-quarters full of the strangest looking liquid Harry had ever laid eyes on. It was almost transparent, with shimmering wisps of silver floating throughout it. It looked a lot like the contents of a pensieve.

At Harry's questioning look and Ron's bemused inspection of how Hermione could have possibly hidden such a large bottle in those papers, Hermione poked the side of the bottle with her forefinger. "This is how we'll get in."

"How will that rotted firewhiskey get us into the manor?" Ron asked dubiously.

"It's not rotted firewhiskey," Hermione replied, affronted. "It's potion. Invisibility potion, to be specific."

Harry and Ron gaped. "How in the seven hells did you get a hold of invisibility potion?!" Harry gasped, gazing at the bottle reverently.

"I made it," Hermione said bluntly, looking rather proud.

"Impossible!" Ron said. "Those ingredients are next to impossible to get! Where-?"

"Fleur," Hermione cut him off. "Her father specializes in rare plants and natural magical substances. She got the ingredients for me."

"When did you-?" Ron tried again, but Hermione cut him off once more.

"When we were at the Burrow," she said. "Ginny helped me."

"So that was the stench coming from her rooms, then!" Ron said, feeling a tad triumphant.

Hermione shook her head, her face paling. "No. That was one of Fred and George's stink bombs." She grimaced. "Nasty stuff. Smelled like that troll from first year."

"So that stuff doesn't smell?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the bottle.

"Not in the least," Hermione said, looking at the swirling silver with her eyebrows raised. "No smell, no taste, nothing."

"It'll be a right bit better than drinking polyjuice, than," Ron said, looking as if he'd just tasted the bottom of someone's foot.

"Well there is one side-effect…" Hermione said, trailing off and looking away.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And what is that, pray tell?"

"Well… it tends to have a bit of an… effect of body density," Hermione muttered, her eyes not meeting Harry's.

"Body density?" Harry repeated, not understanding.

"Well," Hermione bit her lip. "One time a man using the invisibility potion was just standing on the middle of a floor and he kind of, sunk into it suddenly. His legs went through the floor. When they found him—when the potion finally wore off, that is—he was stuck waist deep in the floor."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "And what happened to the part of his body in the floor?" he asked timidly.

Hermione's expression was the only answer they needed and all three at the table blanched.

"No way, nope, not doing it," Harry said, standing up from his chair abruptly.  
"No wait!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her chair as well. "It's not that bad…"

"Not that bad?!" Harry cried, "He lost the bottom half of his body!"

"It's only because he was standing still," Hermione countered. "Look, after some research they found out that if you touch any inanimate object for too long, your body will lose its density at that point of contact and you will subsequently go through the item!"

"Could you say that in English, 'Mione?" Ron asked, looking utterly perplexed.

"She means we can't touch anything for very long at one time or we'll go through it," Harry answered, staring at the bottle of liquid. "I don't know…"

"Well what else do you suggest?!" Hermione said, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. "All three of us can't fit under the invisibility cloak and the polyjuice potion worked wonders last time!"

Harry frowned, looking down at his legs and imagining not having them any more. He shuddered. "We would be heard."

Hermione shook her head. "No, we could cast silencing spells on ourselves. Granted, we wouldn't be able to talk to each other, but it's more important that we're not heard."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked out the window into the snow-covered forest.

"You're not actually considering this, are you Harry?" Ron asked, mortified.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry closed his eyes and considered their options. Hermione was right. The invisibility cloak was too small and polyjuice potion would not work. Was there any other choice? After all, he wasn't particularly keen on losing his legs if he stood still for too long. He pulled off his glasses and sighed. They needed the horcruxes, and they shouldn't let this risk stop them. No other risks had stopped them before, and those were for far less important things than the horcruxes.

Harry opened his jade eyes and turned them back to his friends. "We'll do it."

Ron groaned. "Great."

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Draco leaned back into his bedroom's armchair, staring out the window into the blue sky. He had been doing that a lot lately—staring at the sky. His blonde hair wasn't slicked back like it normally was, and it fell into his face as he slouched in his chair bonelessly.

There was a sharp knock at his door and he glanced over to it, his silver eyes impassive. "Come in," he muttered, turning back to the window.

The door opened and heavy footsteps fell onto his carpet. He knew before the man even reached his side that it was his father, but he spoke no greeting.

Lucius shared his son's gaze for a moment, his gray eyes lingering on the clouds for a few moments before he spoke. "I have something to discuss with you," he said finally.

Draco looked up at his father expectantly and the man moved over to sit on the edge of the teen's bed, turning a serious eye upon him. The young Malfoy sat up straight. His father looked severe. What was this about?

"That locket I gave you, do you still wear it?" Lucius asked, looking down at Draco's clothed chest.

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "That old thing?_ That's _what you wanted to talk about?" He looked disbelieving, as if his father was attempting to fool him.

Lucius nodded shortly. "Answer."

"Yes, father," Draco said, seeing that there was no room for further questioning. He reached into his shirt collar and tugged at an expensive chain, revealing a glimmering and heavy locket with an elaborate 'S' engraved on the front of it.

"Give it to me," Lucius ordered softly, holding out a slender palm.

Thought Draco did not value the locket in any way, he was still hesitant to relinquish it so suddenly with no answers. His white fingers tightened around the chain and he looked at his father in question.

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Give it to me, Draco," he repeated. Was that nervousness in his voice?

Draco knew he shouldn't press his father's patience, but he couldn't control his curiosity. Was this locket important? "Why?" he asked, trying not to sound timid. Timidity was not the Malfoy way.

Lucius let his hand fall to his lap. He hadn't expected Draco to question him. Perhaps the boy had been staring at the skies for too long. "Draco…"

Draco looked away, letting go of the chain and letting the locket fall to his chest with a thump. "Please, tell me," he said quietly. "I don't want to be out of the loop anymore. I… I want to-!" Draco looked up as he spoke, and his voice trailed off as he saw his father's expression.

Lucius was torn. He had expected some sort of outburst from his son. The boy had been locked up in the manor for many months now, and though a war was raging in the outside world, he had not been allowed to partake in it. Only now did it hit Lucius fully how much Draco must have been suffering, knowing that so much was going on…

Lucius fixed the younger Malfoy with a calculating gaze. Draco stared at him fearfully, thinking he had said something wrong. With a grace that only he could muster, Lucius allowed his face to go calm, hiding the emotions behind an invisible mask.

"Son," Draco's eyes widened fractionally as Lucius spoke, "Where do your loyalties lie?" It was a dangerous question, and by the pallor of Draco's face, it was obvious that he knew this.

"I…" Draco was unsure of his answer. His father was a Death Eater, was he not? Yet… though Lucius Malfoy was a very arrogant and proud man, Draco thought him to be a good man, nonetheless. Even so, what should he answer? His father followed the Dark Lord, willingly or not, and his answer could be the death of him. He didn't think for a moment his own father would kill him, but if he told him that he was on Harry Potter's side and the Dark Lord found out…

A small smile curled on Lucius' lips and he let out a deep sigh. Draco blushed crimson. He had forgotten how poor of an Occlumens he was. He'd always been terrible at it. Not as bad as Severus said Potter was, granted.

Wait… Lucius was smiling. So that meant he was on Potter's side, right? Draco was thoroughly confused now and he slapped his hand to his forehead, heart racing and mind whirring.

"Don't worry," Lucius said, his voice much calmer now. "It is safe to say, son, that you and I share the same loyalties."

Draco's head shot up. "But father-"

"I do what is necessary to protect my family," Lucius said firmly, looking Draco straight in the eyes.

The young wizard felt a sudden surge of affection for Lucius, but he, of course, did not show it. Instead, he relaxed into his chair and ran the pad of his thumb over the locket. "So… what is this locket?" he asked, looking up at his father with hopeful eyes.

Lucius withdrew his wand and stood.

"First, I have to cast a few spells on you, Draco," he said, trying to seem comforting as his son paled. "Don't worry. It will just make it so that you cannot speak a word of what I tell you and that, though you will know what I say, you will not remember this conversation for a Legilimens to find."

Draco untensed his shoulders. He trusted his father. But… was the truth of this locket really that serious? He swallowed hard and looked back up. "Okay."

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Voldemort stood at the edge of the wood floors of his library, lingering on the precipice of entering the stone hall, but not quite there. His hands supported him on either side of the door frame, and his slitted features were narrowed and creased. He was deep in thought.

He let out a light sigh through barely parted lips and blinked slowly, as if trying to calm himself.

He was currently thinking about something he had not dared to linger his mind upon in quite a long time.

His horcruxes.

It had seemed pointless before to even contemplate their safety, but as he had considered every option and ignored the growing feeling in his gut, the idea began to become obvious.

Potter obviously had a mission. Why else would he travel to Hogwarts and, even more, the Malfoy Manor? The boy was looking for something.

But he couldn't possibly… no. How would he know!

Unless… Tom's fists clenched against the wooden frame and he ground his teeth together in agitation.

That meddling, old fool!

He shoved himself away from the door and into the hall, his walk stiff and unforgiving as he swept down the corridor.

It was possible that Dumbledore could have told Harry about the horcruxes, but he was certain that even the old man hadn't known the half of what Riddle had used for his objects; or where they were.

The Dark Lord pinched the sides of his scarlet eyes and shut them tightly, coming to a stop in the middle of the hall.

If Potter was searching for the horcruxes, was it possible that he had destroyed some already? Voldemort found that the idea did not anger him as much as it should. He frowned and picked up his pace once more, stopping at his quarters and walking inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He moved to sit in his bedside chair and found himself staring at a very familiar wall. These past few weeks, all he'd done is stare at that wall, and he was growing accustomed to its blank, unmoving form. At least the wall didn't question him. Walls couldn't be incompetent or cause him problems. He liked walls.

He rubbed his temples, forcing his mind back on more intelligible thoughts.

If Potter was indeed after his horcruxes, then he had to stop him. It was likely that the one at Hogwarts was already destroyed, so he had to focus on the ones whose fate he was more certain of. He began to list them all in his mind. Let's see…

He knew full well that both his ring and diary had been destroyed, much to his discontent, so that left… On skeletal finger lifted. The cup. Two more fingers. Then there was the locket and Nagini, his loyal snake. If Harry had destroyed the diadem, those would be the ones he would focus on for now.

Nagini was perfectly safe within his manor. She never left, so her safety was irrelevant at the moment. The cup was with… oh yes… Bellatrix Lestrange had kept that one. Looks like he would have to retrieve that one quickly.

He doubted that Potter would have any desire to return the Lestrange estate any time soon, but the mansion was now unprotected, leaving it an open spot to steal something, should the boy try.

Two of his lean fingers lowered and he placed his index finger to his lip in thought, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair. The locket was with Lucius Malfoy. That was likely more safe than the cup at the moment, but obviously Potter had suspected he might hide something with the Malfoys. After all, he'd shown on their doorstep not long ago. He would likely try to return once more.

The wizard leaned back into his chair, his bald head hitting the leather softly. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a bit of relief. At least he wasn't thinking about his recent dreams.

After a few moments, relief was replaced with a low growl.

Unfortunately, reminding yourself of something you're not supposed to be thinking about—even if it's just to realize that you're not thinking about it—ends up taking your thoughts right to that particular subject.

Now, of course, the vision behind his eyelids played nothing but the scenes of his strolls in that hated room with a fireplace and his activities in that room with a certain messy haired teen.

Damn.

Why couldn't he just keep his mind of his horcruxes?

He scowled at the ceiling.

This was pathetic.

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**Wooo! Some really important and exciting things are gonna start happening now! A lot of things have been revealed in this chapter, neh? This was a kind of set-up chapter to prepare you for the crash bang boom that's about to come.**

**CRASH BANG BOOM!**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	16. Pursuit

**A/N: The way I wrote this chapter is a lot different from the other chapters. A LOT happens in this chappie and it was so action-packed that it ended up coming out with a very different view of time and scenes. I like how it turned out. I hope you do too! After all, so much happens!!!**

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_Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you  
Until the day I die   
I'll spill my heart for you_

As years go by  
I race the clock with you  
But if you died right now  
You know that I'd die to  
I'd die too

You remind me of the times  
When I knew who I was  
But still the second hand will catch us  
Like it always does.

Well make the same mistakes  
I'll Take the fall for you  
I hope you need this now  
cuz I know I still do.

Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Until the day I die   
I'll spill my heart for you

Should I bite my tongue  
Until blood soaks my shirt?  
We'll never fall apart  
so Tell me why this hurts so much

My hands are at your throat  
And I think I hate you  
But still we'll say, "remember when"  
Just like we always do, just like we always do

Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Yeah I'd spill my heart  
Yeah I'd spill my heart, for you

My hands are at your throat  
And I think I hate you  
We made the same mistakes  
mistakes like friends do,  
my hands are at your throat  
and I think I hate you  
we made the same mistakes.

Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you

Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you

Until the day I die  
Until the day I die

_-Story of the Year – Until the Day I Die_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 16- Pursuit

The wind swept over the hills, blowing the fog in dancing circles of cold in the early morning. The dead trees swayed and creaked ominously around the mansion, a building that looked as abandoned as the forest around it. No animals dared make the forest here their home, for it bore no food or shelter anyway, and the sky was a deadly white, a warning of the snow to come.

The land was lifeless, except for one man. He was hooded and cloaked, and his thin, tall body walked briskly towards the dark mansion. Even as his hands were safe in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched together from the cold, he bore a sheer elegance and powerful grace that showed both knowledge and arrogance.

He stalked up to the abandoned home and glanced for a moment at the ajar door, his red eyes scanning the hall beyond it.

It was now devoid of the body that had been there the last time he had ventured to this place. For this, he was grateful. He had no desire to see the dead at the moment.

Stepping past the threshold, Lord Voldemort pulled back his hood and narrowed his eyes at the dankness of the place. This was worse than his manor. It was so desolate, and he chuckled at the thought that only a Lestrange would deem this place livable.

He had chosen to come alone to retrieve his horcrux for a very good reason. Though it would be difficult to move it, seeing as he could not be near it without severe physical pain, it was more beneficial to him to not let anyone know of its movement. He'd recently had a suspicion of a rat within his ranks, and he wasn't referring to Wormtail when he thought this.

Therefore, it would be wiser if only he knew the horcrux's location this time.

It would just be a bit more tiring, that's all.

For the next twenty minutes, he found himself scouring the house; wandering in and out of its many empty rooms and growing more and more irritated by the moment. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the East wing, he felt his chest constrict uncomfortably and his heart rate began to increase. It was near.

His pace hurried, he continued as the tenseness grew. Soon, it was difficult for him to breath and small trickled of sweat made their way down his forehead. He had to find it quickly. This must be done in an expedient matter or the consequences would be most severe.

As he reached the last room in the hall, he knew that the cup was close. He entered the room, ignoring the surroundings and coming right up to an antique chest. It was covered in dust and seemingly untouched. The only thing strange about it was the lock, which was a polished gold. It had no keyhole or even, apparently a way to open it, and Tom withdrew his wand.

He tried the basic spells first, but they were of no use. At least Bellatrix had been the least bit more competent than he had guessed. His heart began to race more harshly and he dropped to his knees, whispering a tedious incantation as he pressed the tip of his wand to the metal. Within seconds, the lock dissolved away in a cloud of glittering golden sparks.

With a flick of his wand, the lid flew open. His eyes narrowed to avoid the flying dust, and his heart slowed minutely from mere relief. There, within the middle of the large chest, sat Hufflepuff's cup.

Instead of picking it up, he cast a hovering charm and walked, much more slowly, out of the room. The cup followed silently behind his limping steps as his vision began to blur and he lost a certain sense of balance. His head was pounding as he reached the grounds and head for the anti-apparition wards. Halfway across the mile to reach the end of the wards, he felt his magic slip and heard the cup clang to the dirt.

For a moment, the Dark Lord just stood there, as if he could not believe that he, of all people, could no longer cast a valid levitation spell. Painfully, he turned around as gazed with wide eyes at the offending object.

Realizing his only option, his set his thoroughly whitened face into a furious scowl.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he hissed, dragging his feet over to the fallen horcrux. With a grimace, he leaned over and grasped the slim handle of the cup, picking it up with what seemed to be extreme difficulty.

He ignored the searing heat that engulfed his hand and forced his remaining strength into walking as he reached the end of the wards.

Finally, with his last bit of saved magic, the Dark Lord disapparated back to his manor and launched himself into a dark, dungeon-like room at a far end of his manor. Casting the cup into a dark, metal closet, he slammed the door shut and muttered one final incantation, sealing the door shut.

Then, he collapsed to the floor.

Perhaps it wasn't the most brilliant idea to do that alone.

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Ginny and Neville were sitting together in the Great Hall, along with Luna, Dean, Seamus, Cho, and numerous other DA members. They knew it was a bit silly to gather together in such a public area, but if they were questioned, they could just say that they were debating the next Quidditch match.

Not that anyone would actually believe that…

Neville leaned over to Ginny and the rest of the group leaned in as well to hear what he was whispering. It was quite a spectacle to see, honestly—twenty or so students all leaning in at a small section of the Gryffindor table. It was like a muggle football huddle.

"So how are we going to find them?" Neville asked, staring at Ginny disbelievingly. "You said that your mum wrote you and told you that they weren't at the Order place anymore…"

Ginny exchanged looks with Luna and blushed when she noticed twenty separate pairs of eyes on her. "I think Hermione still has her coin from way back when," Ginny said quietly. "You know, these." She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a fake galleon. It was the method of communication that Dumbledore's Arm had used since fifth year. "I'm going to try to contact her through it. Hopefully she'll see and we'll find out where they are, but I don't know."

"What if she doesn't have a coin?" Seamus inquired from across the table. "There's no guarantee she even has it anymore."

"I know that," Ginny replied agitatedly. It was rather tiresome being looked to like the leader of the whole thing. It's not like she had wanted to be the one who figured everything out. "If that doesn't work, then…" she blushed crimson and muttered the last bit in a rush of breath. "IdunnothecoinwasallIcouldthinkof."

Her peers stared at her in shock. "That's all you could come up with?!" Lavender exclaimed, throwing her hands to her face in over-dramatized horror.

"Well I'm not some super… person!" Ginny retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. "I don't see why I have to come up with the whole bloody plan!"

Neville gulped and tentatively placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Well, listen, guys," he said softly, beginning to sweat when all eyes were turned to him. "I think the coin is a good idea. We'll try that tonight, ok? In the meantime, let's all of us try to think of some other ways we could possibly find them. Everyone try and think of something by our meeting tonight. Don't worry, we'll find them. I know it."

The teens seemed satisfied with this encouragement and they muttered to each other in agreement, nodding back and forth. One by one, they said their goodbyes to the Gryffindors and, strangely, Luna as they walked back to their own tables.

Ginny and Neville turned to Luna and looked at her strangely.

She smiled happily back at them and reached across the table to grab some toast, spreading some strawberry jam over it with a dazed look.

"Um…. Luna?" Neville asked.

"Hm?" she asked, taking a bite out of her toast and looking utterly giddy.

"Aren't you going to go back to the Ravenclaw table?" the boy asked sheepishly.

"Why in the world would I do that?" the blonde inquired curiously, peering over at the mousy teen.

"Uh, well, that is, no reason! Of course! Yes!" Neville stuttered, turning to his plate quickly. Ginny was now eyeing him with the same bemused look as she had regarded Luna with, scooting away from him a bit.

Luna shrugged him off and turned back to her toast, humming as she did so.

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Harry was in his room, staring solemnly out of the frost-nipped window into the snow-covered forest, elbows propped up on the windowsill and palms supporting his tired head. His pink lips were pressed into a thin line and his exhales of breath were sharp and forced. His glasses had been set aside on the sill, seeing as they only steamed up when he breathed so close to the window. The fingers on his right hand flexed and he blinked.

They were about to go to the Malfoys' house once more, and, somehow, he found himself worrying more about whether or not Voldemort would be there than if they would find the horcrux they sought.

He sighed, fogging over the window in front of his face until he could only see vague distortions of the white trees outside. Pushing himself away from the window, he grabbed his glasses and started out towards the dining room.

Ron thought that Voldemort's being at the Malfoy manor had only been a coincidence. Harry was fairly certain he was right, but he still had that nagging feeling at the end of his gut. Problem was, he couldn't exactly identify what that feeling _was_.

Putting his glasses back on and turning around the hall corner, he let his eyes focus on the pair that were sitting at the wood table.

"Oh come on, 'Mione!" Ron groaned, "We've gone over this a thousand times!"

Said witch stuck her hands on her hips indignantly and gave Ron an annoyed look. "Well this is very serious! If you could just remember it all-"

"I remember it just fine!" Ron snapped, looking offended. "I'm not a bloody toddler."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air and let out a growl. Ron shrunk back in his seat.

"Hermione," Harry said from across the room. The two looked up. They hadn't known he was there. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. We've planned thoroughly this time. It won't go wrong."

Hermione slouched, but said nothing. After a moment of contemplative silence, the three stood and picked up their things, walking outside into the snow.

"We'll apparate into the forest beside the manor," Hermione said, staring into the trees as she checked her pocket for the potion vials. "When we get there, we'll take the potions and cast the silencing charms around ourselves. Remember, we won't be able to talk to each other or see each other, and whatever you do, don't touch anything for too long. If you find the horcrux, keep switching hands, but don't keep it in the same hand."

The boys nodded. "And we cast revellium on ourselves to counteract the potion, right?" Ron asked, turned towards the other two with a nervous expression.

"Yes, it will take the potion out of your system," Hermione replied, nodding proudly at Ron's spell retention.

Silently, the three took each others' arms and took a deep breath before they apparated.

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Draco paced back and forth in the hall outside his room, arms hanging behind his back as his gray slacks and black silk shirt bounced around his lean form. His hair was disheveled and a lock of gold fell into his face. He pushed it back with a thin hand, his eyes flickering up to the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. His parents had left the house earlier that afternoon to conduct Ministry business in some sort of court trial, leaving him alone and panicking in the manor, his mind whirling with all his father had told him.

A shaky hand ascended, stopping at his chest and grasping the heavy locket through the fabric. He could feel the 'S' digging into his palm and his heart began to pound.

He knew what he had to do, but how… that was something else entirely.

He felt lightheaded for a moment and suppressed a shiver from running down his spine.

Why did he feel like something was about to happen?

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The trio appeared in the middle of a thick forest and all three promptly fell onto their faces. They had apparated on top of a log, apparently, and it hadn't welcomed their stepping on it. Sitting up and pulling some leaves out of his hair, Harry glared at the offending wood and went to help Ron and Hermione up.

"Well that was fun," Ron grumbled sarcastically.

Hermione brushed off her robes and withdrew the potion vials, walking ahead of them to the edge of the forest and looking down the hill to the manor. It stood majestically in the grass, unknowing, seemingly, of their presence. She swallowed and closed her eyes to calm herself, turning back to her companions.

"This is it," Harry stated. "Don't forget. They could have the cup or the locket, but check out anything that looks suspicious. And be careful, guys."

The other two smiled weakly at him and Hermione handed out the separate vials.

Ron grimaced at it and held it up in front of his face to inspect its shimmering contents. "I'm getting bloody sick of these potions," he muttered, making a face.

Harry shrugged and uncorked the glass. "Bottoms up," he said grimly, downing the contents.

Suddenly, a sweeping sensation overtook him, like he'd just been thrown off balance, and he stumbled. It felt as if his entire body had just run cold, and his very blood turned to rivers of ice. The sensation fell like a wave over his whole body, and then it was gone. His eyes blinked open and he squinted at the brightness of the sun. He couldn't see Ron and Hermione anywhere, and when he looked down, he couldn't see himself either. He bent his neck and looked straight through his own stomach. The potion was flawless. Not a single imperfection marred the air that he now resembled. Hermione really was talented.

"Silencing charms," he heard Hermione say from somewhere to his right. He nodded, but quickly stopped, realizing she couldn't see him anyway.

Three voices mumbled the spells and soon the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds overhead. Steeling himself, Harry started towards the manor, stomach churning with anticipation.

When they reached the manor…. or… at least, Harry _thought_ all three of them reached it at the same time, they edged the front door open and peered inside. Hearing no sounds and seeing no one running towards the eerily moving object, Harry pushed it open enough to squeeze through and waited until the invisible hands of one of his friends pushed the door close quietly. They had already decided their routes.

Hermione would go to the left, first checking the study and then the passage to left of the stairs. Ron would go upstairs and inspect the rooms. Harry was to go through the doors to their right and discover the room hidden behind the tall oak.

If anything went wrong or one of them found the horcrux, all they had to do was cast a communication spell. It would cause whoever the spell targeted to feel a magical pull, and they would all meet back by the forest.

Harry adjusted his glasses and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Bracing himself for any possibility, he walked up to the huge doors and pushed them open slowly, flinching as the door creaked slightly. Freezing, he glanced through the crack in the door and then behind him, unmoving for five painful seconds as he listened for any movement. He heard none and relaxed a bit, being much more careful as he pushed the door open enough to get through. Sliding in the room, he closed the door behind him before he inspected his surroundings. Hermione had been right; it was a ballroom.

Gleaming mahogany floors made up the huge room. Tables with what were most likely expensive antiques lined the room. To the right was a huge window that viewed the outside hills. To the left was a glass wall, with pure gold trim and doors that led out to what looked like an indoor garden. It was truly a beautiful sight, but Harry had no time to marvel at the Malfoys' elegant taste.

Bringing his thoughts back in order, Harry scanned the room, spotting a chest on the opposite side. Moving towards it, he admired the elegant carvings upon its heavy surface. Slowly, and with a dreadful anxiousness, he lifted the lid. His heart sank. It help cups, but not the one he was looking for. Twelve sparkling, crystal drinking glasses were placed neatly inside its velvet interior. He sighed with disappointment.

His heart stopped when he heard a familiar creak of the door behind him and he whirled around, the lid of the chest snapping shut with a crack.

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Ron crept up the stairs, his freckled face glistening with a nervous sweat. Or, at least if would have been glistening, if for the fact that he currently had no appearance at all, due to invisibility.

When he reached the upstairs hall, he stopped dead. Draco Malfoy was currently pacing up and down the hall, his face twisted in concentration and his steps anxious and quick. What was his deal?

Ron suddenly had the feeling that he could be seen, and he stepped quickly into the nearest doorway just as a creak sounded from downstairs. His gaze shot to the stairs and Draco immediately stopped his pacing. Together, although unknowingly to the young Malfoy, they listened intently.

When the blonde began to move again, Ron assumed that he was merely continuing his pacing, so he was naturally surprised when, instead, the other teen appeared beside him. Ron let out a shout of surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth right afterwards. He then blushed crimson, remembering the silencing charm. Draco merely stood there for a moment, staring down the stairs.

Ron panicked. Had that sound been one of his friends? If they were caught…

He had no time to finish that thought, as Draco began jogging down the stairs. Ron stepped back out into the hall and leaned his right palm against the wall as he leaned forward in the stairwell to listen. If Draco found someone, he would hear it.

Soon enough, another creak was heard and Ron knew that Malfoy had just opened the same door that had been opened moments before. For a few moments, there was silence, and then there was a shouting of spells and a loud thump, then some shouts, but Ron heard no more than that.

Instead, he turned slowly, as if time itself had paused, as he began to fall sideways. How was he falling? Wasn't he leaning against the wall?

Horror struck him with a sickening realization. He could no longer feel his hand or wrist. Looking to his side, he saw nothing, but as his arm began to grow numb, bit by bit, and he started to lose his balance and fall to the wall, he knew what had happened.

With the utmost fear, he dropped the silencing spell and whispered, "R-revellium."

And then, he screamed.

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Harry mentally cursed himself for dropping the lid of the chest as he turned around to see Draco Malfoy walking into the room with a confused look on his face.

He began to edge towards the glass wall as the blonde searched the room unseeingly. "Hello?" he asked hesitantly.  
Harry edged further, but he stopped as soon as Draco uttered his next word. "…Potter?"

Harry swung wide eyes to look at his rival. How could he possibly know?

Draco took a step into the room and drew his wand. This knocked Harry out of his trance and he began to dash towards the door. Unfortunately, his haste made him forget to check his surroundings, and he tripped on a rug at the end of the room, falling onto his side and kicking up a side of the carpet. His wand flew out of his hand and skidded across the rug, now visible.

Draco spun to the spot and, seeing the upturned rug, shouted, "Revellium!" It hit Harry in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, letting the silencing spell drop as he did so. Immediately, his veins began to burn icily again and he felt like his own blood was being pulled from his body. When he opened his eyes, he could see his own feet and he pushed himself up on an elbow.

Emerald eyes crawled upwards and met with gray. Draco's expression was not what Harry expected. He still had his wand on Harry, but he looked torn, his free hand lingering above his chest like he was about to do something.

Harry felt a ripple of anger and neurosis thrill through his system. No. He would not be done in by Draco Malfoy! He had to find the horcrux, and that snarky ferret would not stop him!

Within a second, Harry was diving for his wand. He grabbed it and landed on his knees, twisting around towards Malfoy with a curse on his lips.

"Wait!"

Harry hesitated.

"Wait, please!" Draco said, his hands in front of him in a stopping gesture. Harry stared on in bewilderment as the other ten dropped his wand carelessly, letting it clatter to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry growled, his expression untrusting.

Draco frowned and reached into his shirt. "I know why you're here," he said quietly.

Harry stood and lowered his wand slightly. "What are you on about?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He gasped and his eyes widened as Draco pulled an item free from the confines of his shirt and undid the chain, holding it out for Harry to see.

It was the locket.

The horcrux.

Harry gaped, the raised his wand again. "Give it to me, Malfoy," he said lowly.

Draco's expression turned blank and he straightened, as if he had remembered his composure only then. Harry tensed, ready for an attack. Instead, the platinum blonde swung the chain and tossed the locket across the room to Harry.

Harry caught it with his left and was once more gaping in shock. "I don't understand." Could this be a trick?

Draco sneered. "Don't be a fool, Potter," he said, "I've always been on your side."

Harry's hands clasped tightly around the horcrux and he stared at Draco as if he'd never seen him before. Before he could say anything, Draco winced and his hand shot to his left arm. Wrenching down his sleeve, he exposed the Dark mark to the room. It was writhing on his skin and a look of panic overtook the boy's features.

"Potter, you've got to get out of her!" he shouted, "Now!"

"What? Why?" Harry had no desire to stay, but this turn of events was still unsettling. What was going on now?

"The Dark Lord's coming!" Draco yelled, "Get out! Get out now!"

Harry's heart began to throttle his ribcage. Yet, it was not fear that struck him so strongly, but anxiety. "I-I can't!" he stammered, his eyes swinging to the right just as he heard a terrible scream echo throughout the house.

The two boys turned and ran to the door, shoving it open. The screaming was coming from upstairs, and it was soon joined by another.

It was Hermione's shriek that joined the bloodcurdling cries that came from above. And she cried a name that set Harry's blood naturally cold this time.

"Ron!!!"

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The Dark Lord had been sitting in his quarters when the feeling hit him. It was a deep, determined anger and frustration that was not his own. He blinked and his vision changed to see the face of Draco Malfoy as wand swung out in front of him and he felt Harry about to utter a curse.

The vision stopped.

Voldemort groaned and stood. He had been hoping to rest a bit before he had gone to Malfoy manor, but it looked like Potter was ahead of him on this one.

He was still very weak, but he had recovered enough from the morning's activities to handle this, he supposed. Throwing on his cloak and boots, he exited his quarters and started towards the entranceway.

"Wormtail!" he barked.

The pudgy little man appeared from around one of the corners and he stumbled over to Tom nervously. Riddle wrenched the man's left arm from his side and pressed his finger to it, concentrating on the Malfoys to inform them that he would be arriving.

"Master?" Pettigrew inquired as the Dark Lord threw his arm away and began walking swiftly to the apparation wards.

Tom ignored him and hurried to his destination, wand already drawn.

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Lucius had trained himself over many years to not visibly allow the pain of his Dark Mark to effect him. However, he almost made an exception from his seat in the Ministry courtroom as it began to twist on his flesh. He turned to his wife and knew she had felt it as well, and simultaneously, they looked down at their arms. It wasn't a summons, but a warning.

Lucius' eyes widened ever so slightly. The Dark Lord was going to Malfoy manor.

Draco.

Turning to Narcissa, he leaned to her and whispered, "I will handle this."  
She nodded apprehensively and he stood, announcing his departure to the room.

By the time Lucius made it to a point where he was able to disapparate, a good fifteen minutes had passed since the warning. His heart pounding, he ran into the manor. The door was already ajar, and there was upset shouting coming from upstairs.

Drawing his wand, Lucius sprinted up the stairs only to stumble to a horrified stop as he looked at the scene before him.

Draco and Hermione Granger were kneeling over a body covered in blood. As he looked closer, he recognized that person as Ronald Weasley, and the boy was still alive, his breathing coming in short pants and his eyes wide and blank. He looked down at his feet when he felt them slide a little. The floor was covered in blood and the locket that he had given Draco was in the middle of the puddle, speckled with red.

"What's happened?" he asked hoarsely, thrown by the sight.

Two heads shot up to meet his gaze and he was hit by another tremor of worry as he saw their expressions. The entire right side of Draco's face was smeared in blood, but he did not look injured; only terribly frightened. Granger was sobbing and there was an angry red welt on the side of her cheek.

"He's in shock," Draco choked, looking back down at the Weasley boy. "His arm…"

Lucius' son did not need to finish his sentence, for Lucius saw it himself. With a sickened shock, his eyes followed Ron's right, blood-splattered shoulder down to his elbow. He would have continued, but that's where the arm ended. All that was left was a half-healed stump that Hermione had apparently been trying to heal.

Kneeling down beside the shivering boy, he gently touched Hermione's shoulder. She jumped and began to cry harder.

"Move aside," he said firmly. She complied, brainlessly, and continued to shake as much as her fallen comrade. Lucius began to mutter an advanced incantation, and Ron's arm began to seal up. When he was finished, he surveyed the amount of blood around them. There was a lot, and upon observing the paleness of the Weasley's complexion, he had definitely lost a dangerous amount.

"I have potions fro the pain and blood loss," Lucius said, hiding the stress within his elegant voice. "They are in my stores downstairs. Draco."

The stunned boy nodded and started running down the stairs, leaving tracks of crimson blood where he stepped.

Lucius turned towards the brown haired witch. She had calmed herself somewhat at seeing Ron's arm heal. She was still too shocked to question Lucius' actions, and for the moment, he was grateful for that. Instead, he spoke to her of something far more important. "Where is Potter?" he asked.

The girl looked up, her brown eyes wide and lips trembling. "He…" she looked lost for a moment, and then said. Her sobs renewed. "Voldemort took him!" she cried, burying her face in her hands.

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Harry and Draco ran as fast as their legs would allow them to the screams, only becoming more terrified as the shouts died down to only Hermione's. The dashed up the stairs as the front door opened behind them. A stunning spell flew past Harry's earn and the pair ran faster.

What they saw when they reached the top of the stairs stopped them in their tracks. Hermione was huddled on the floor with a shaking Ron. Blood covered them both and it was slowly seeping out over the floor.

Harry didn't have time to think as another jet of light sped towards him and he jumped to the side. The spell hit the side of Hermione's cheek and she cried out in pain.

"Don't run from me, potter!" came a familiar voice.

In a quick decision, Harry grabbed Draco's arm and pushed him the rest of the way up the stairs. The blonde fell face first into the blood, the right half of his face sliding through it before he could catch himself.

Another spell came burning pat and Harry turned and darted down the stairs, Hermione's shouts dying out behind him. He saw the angry face of Voldemort at the bottom of the steps, and he unthinkingly launched himself towards the man, grabbing his clothed arm.

Voldemort saw Harry jump at him and braced himself, his red eyes meeting green as the boy latched onto his arm. This was the perfect opportunity, and he would take it.

As he and Harry fell back from the force of the tackle, Voldemort allowed his face a small smirk before there was a loud crack, and they disappeared.

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Lucius stood quickly and began down the stairs. He met Draco halfway. The teen's hands were filled with all sorts of potions and he looked utterly panicked. Lucius calmed him a bit by laying a heavy hand on his shoulder and looking into mirroring gray eyes. "Calm down. You have done well," he said smoothly, giving his son a small smile. "It's this one and… this one," he said, looking down at the bottles in Draco's arms and pointing at the correct ones. "Give them to him now, wait five minutes, and leave."

Draco's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Leave? I don't understand."

"You are to go with those two to wherever they came from," Lucius said firmly, his eyes never leaving Draco's. "The Dark Lord knows that you tried to help them. He ill not be forgiving in this case. You must go into hiding with them. I have to find Severus. We'll take care of Potter."

Draco stared at Lucius for a minute, his eyes uncertain, but his father gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder and he nodded. "Ok…okay," he said hesitantly.

Lucius nodded and gave one last small smile. "Be safe," he said before he turned to go. Once more, Draco nodded, and then turned their separate ways.

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Harry had little time to think as they reappeared in a strange hall. He was dragged before he could say a word down a hall and into a dark room. Voldemort threw him against a stone wall and he fell to the ground, clutching his wand desperately.

The room was cold and had a dungeon-like atmosphere. There were flickering torches on either side of the door and a dark staircase to his left. He didn't even get a moment to wonder where the staircase led before Voldemort shot another spell at him, an angry scowl on his face.

Harry rolled away from the wall and cast a body-bind at the other man, who blocked it easily and sent three hexes his way. Harry dodged the first two, but the third hit him in the arm and he gasped as he felt his shirt slice open along with his flesh.

They kept up this tango for a good ten minutes, shooting curses and jinxes back and forth at each other like tennis players.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted breathlessly, as he ran back to the wall he had come from. Voldemort's shield came up just in time and Harry was perplexed. Was Voldemort panting? But they'd done hardly anything!

"Levicorpus!" Harry cried, his messy hair brushing across his scar and reminding him of the burning pain that it held.

The reptilian man dodged the spell and shot off another one just as Harry did the same. The spells hit in the middle of the room, lighting it up for an instant before Harry felt his wand jerk itself out of his hand and fly into the darkness. He looked up just in time to see that Voldemort's had done the same. Both their spells had backfired.

They stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move.

Then, Tom slouched a bit before stopping himself. Harry's eyes widened. The Dark Lord was obviously very weak. This was his opening.

He glanced around in the shadows for his wand, but the torches did nothing to aid his search, and he gave up.

Turning back to Voldemort, his eyes met for the thousandth time with ruby, and he felt a ripping tide of rage overwhelm him. Running forward, he reached out and wrapped his hands around the man's long throat.

Tom crashed into the wall in an instant, but he did not look the least bit surprised as Harry's hands tightened around his throat. He didn't even make a move to stop him. Instead, he just stared at him as the boy started to tremble.

Harry's hands began to shake as he stared at the face in front of him. How could he have been so stupid? He had touched the man's skin, and now the dark eyes of Tom Riddle were staring back at him. He tried to tighten his grip, but he just couldn't.

If it had been that snake-like face that he was looking at now, maybe he could have done it. Maybe he could have gone through with it. But not with this face. Not with this face looking at him.

Harry felt sick and he hated himself as his hands began to loosen. Voldemort's face was unreadable, but he couldn't tear his eyes off of it.

"Yes," the teen croaked quietly, his voice breaking. Tom's eyes flickered into focus. "Yes," Harry repeated, his eyes looking back into Riddle's. "I have dreamt of a room with a fireplace." His fingers were loosened completely now, and only his fingertips rested against the pale skin.

Voldemort's expression changed briefly, and Harry felt his last bit of control break. Through all his self-loathing and doubt, he pressed his lips forward onto the older man's furiously, throwing all of the pent up emotions that had encumbered him since that day in the Hogwarts courtyard. He finally allowed himself to feel the other lips against his and he grew dizzy.

Without warning, Tom gripped one hand on the back of Harry's neck and the other on the young wizard's arm, pushing him away and spinning them both around so that now it was Harry who was crushed against the wall. Tom restored the kiss with a fervor, and this time, Harry returned it just as desperately.

Their lips wrestled with one another, and when Tom's tongue dipped into his mouth, Harry tensed up and groaned. The battle came into their mouths and Harry felt his hands move of their own accord. The slid down the older wizard's chest and he fumbled with the buttons, wanting to feel more skin. He unbuttoned the top few and slipped his hands onto the flesh of the man's collarbone.

Tom couldn't restrain a soft moan when Harry's hands slid into the top of his shirt, and he let his own fingers trace the contours of Harry's face before they entangled themselves in the boy's raven hair. He opened his eyes to see that Harry's were shut tightly, and he pressed his tongue deeper into the teen's mouth, determined to feel every bit of it.

When Harry's hands trailed up to the Dark Lord's face, Tom broke of the kiss involuntarily and stood stock still, their foreheads together, and Harry's delicate fingers began to feel every detail of his face.

Harry's eyes were open now, however half-lidded, and he was staring curiously into Tom's eyes. The pads of his thumbs traced the man's high cheekbones and then ran over his forehead, shifting past his ears and dropping back down to his neck.

Riddle's eyes had fallen close through this, and he took in a deep breath, leaning forward to capture Harry's lips in one last kiss. This time it was tender and soft, and he pulled away after it, leaving only his right hand resting on the side of Harry's neck.

The jade-eyed wizard's hands fell away and he shut his eyes with a sigh when Voldemort let his palm cup Harry's cheek for a moment.

When the Dark Lord finally pulled his arm away, Harry kept his eyes closed.

"When you go out the door, turn left," Tom said softly, his whisper barely audible even in the silence of the room. "The opening at the end of the hall is where the wards drop. You may apparate there. I suggest you do so quickly, lest one of my Death Eaters see you."

Harry leaned against the wall still, his body unable to move. Even now, his eyes remained closed. "I..." he managed to say lamely, his hoarse voice trailing off.

"Go, Harry," Voldemort said roughly. Harry heard the rustle of fabric and listened quietly as Tom descended the stairs at the back of the room. He waited until he could no longer hear him before he opened his eyes, and then, he simply stared at the wall.

His brain refused to work, and though he wanted more than anything to think, he could do no such thing at the moment; so he stepped away from the wall, with difficulty, and opened the door to the room, not looking back.

Without any more thoughts, he turned left and ran.

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**You have no clue how much I enjoyed writing this chapter.**

**Mwahaha.**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	17. Retrieval

I'm sorry I haven't put chapters up in a while. What happened was somehow a virus got into my comp, and I'm not talking about any normal virus. This one ATE my hard drive. I had to rewrite and reinstall the entire operating system, so I was out of commission for a bit. I till wrote though, whether it was in my notebook or on my shitty windows 95 laptop, I wrote.

So sorry for the absence! Hopefully that won't happen again!

**Lady Draculea (aff): OMG, your reviews have made me laugh so hard. I love it! XD**

**A/N: Gee, I was honestly surprised that so many of you noticed the fact that Harry forgot his wand. I didn't think you'd notice, but I guess I underestimated you! Too bad. This chapter coulda been a bit of a surprise too, but you readers are too darn observant!**

**A/N 2: Some people mentioned that Cho and some other students I mentioned shouldn't be at Hogwarts because they've already graduated. Well my explanation for that is this: Just because they already graduated doesn't mean they can't visit. I'm sure Cho and the others were keeping tabs on the DA so that they could be there when they set off to find Harry. You wont' know this in this chapter, but people like the Weasley twins and such are also considered part of the DA and will be there, even though they already graduated.**

**WARNING: DANGER! DANGER! ………..this chapter is not for kiddies, in every way, shape, and form. Minors or whatnot who read this chapter do so at their own discretion and I am not responsible, as I have long since told you that adult things would happen in this fic and it is accordingly rated.**

**Enjoy.**

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_To you  
I'm all I've left undone  
I'm all I haven't won  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up_

_You take  
The breath you didn't make  
What's left you did forsake  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow_

_You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally  
Yeah_

_You see  
The things I cannot change  
The things that make me plain  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up_

_We've made  
All from the sum of none  
All that we have become  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow_

_You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally_

_You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally_

_Fill, fill what's in me  
Fill, fill what's in you  
Fill, fill what's in me  
So my soul's not left so hollow_

_You can make me SCREAM  
You can make me BREATHE_

_You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally_

_You can make me scream  
You can make me breathe  
You can make me scream  
You can make me breathe_

_-Submersed- Hollow_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 17- Retrieval

Harry appeared before the cottage in the middle of the forest when the night was pitch black. He hadn't returned to Malfoy manor. If his friends had escaped, he was certain they would be here. It wasn't as if Draco was going to stop them. So he only had to worry if the Malfoy elders had come back to the house. Hopefully that hadn't been the case.

Harry stilled himself when he realized he had been shaking. He told himself that it was the falling snow that caused him to quiver, but he knew better. However, he had no desire whatsoever to think back on the events that had taken place within that dark room.

He clenched a fists tightly at his side. Why? Why had he kissed…?

No. Harry shook his head vehemently. He would not think about it. He refused to.

Crushing his thoughts with sheer willpower, the emerald-eyed wizard stepped through the snow to the cabin, leaving crunching footsteps in his wake.

Pushing the door opened with a cold-pinkened hand, his eyebrows rose and his breathe hitched in his throat at what he saw. Ron was laid out on the dining table, covered in blankets and a wet cloth on his sweat-drenched forehead. He was shaking as bad as Harry was.

Hermione was kneeling on the floor, papers and books flung open and scattered everywhere. She was frantically scanning through the pages with a look of despair.

The thing that surprised Harry the most, though, was not the sight of his tortured friends, but the sight of whom else was in the room.

Draco Malfoy was the oddest. He was pacing back and forth next to the table where Ron lay, every now and then shooting anxious glances at the redhead's flushed face and then to the living room.

These second glances were directed at the group sitting there. Most of them were staring distrustfully at the blonde, while others merely sat and waited in a nervous agitation, spinning their wands around in their hands or eyeing the fireplace.

It was Dumbledore's Army.

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When Tom finally forced himself to ascend the dark staircase, he stopped at the top step, eyeing the room carefully. Upon seeing its emptiness, his shoulders untensed and he let out a long exhale. It wasn't as if he had expected the boy to still be there, but he still had that twitch in his gut at the thought that it was possible.

Frowning into the flickering darkness, his eyes scanned the floor. In the haste and heat of the moment, he had forgotten entirely that he had been disarmed. It was a pathetic slip up, but he allowed himself no time for berating the mistake. He had heavier things weighing on his mind.

For the thousandth time, he had let Harry Potter escape with hardly a scratch.

Was he going soft; getting weak? It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to prevent it, Harry had always been his one weakness in every way. The boy had destroyed him, deterred him, and moved him. He should want nothing more than to defeat the teen now. He should want nothing more than to tear him apart; to make him suffer.

Why, then, if this was how it was meant to be, was Voldemort hesitating? Why was he postponing, delaying… denying?

Frowning with the lack of energy to scowl, Tom extended his right arm and faced an open palm outwards. After a few seconds of concentration, a wand flew from the darkness and into his waiting hand. He smirked inwardly. Wandless magic had its advantages.

He narrowed his eyes at a fleeting thought and flicked his wand, engulfing the room in a white light. Red eyes scanned the floor quickly, coming to rest on the far right corner.

So the boy forgot to grab his wand.

Interesting.

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Hermione was pushing through the pages of her books furiously, trying desperately to concentrate on finding out how to help Ron as her worry for Harry grew by the second. He couldn't be dead… He couldn't possibly…

Draco, whom she still hadn't fully accepted even after all they'd been through in the short time, had told her that his father would save Harry. For some strange reason, she had believed him, and she had therefore tried to focus on giving Ron the medical attention he needed.

When they had arrived at the cottage, Hermione had been searching through her bag for medical books when she saw the fake galleon of Dumbledore's Army.

It only took a half an hour to contact the group through communication mirrors, and even less time to direct them to the cottage. As soon as the group appeared, the smiles had fallen off of their faces when they came to the realization of where they had come.

They had expected to come to the confident trio, all busy planning their next trick to defeat the Dark Lord.

Instead, they had fallen upon chaos. Not only was Harry gone and Ron with one less arm, but there was a traitor among the group: Draco Malfoy.

It had taken another half an hour to explain to everyone what had happened, and though some had come to terms with the information they digested, others were not so easy to accept reality.

Harry, the strongest among them, was captured by Voldemort. Ron, the goofball and seemingly untouchable, was mortally wounded. And Malfoy, a boy who they had all loathed, was now on their side.

The world had fallen upside down.

Hermione's hands began to shake and a few tears streaked down her cheeks. She started when a small hand patted her own, and her tearstained face turned to meet the crystalline eyes of Luna Lovegood. The fair-skinned blonde smiled consolingly. "It will be alright," she said lightly, sitting down next to the bushy-haired witch and looking curiously down at the books.

Hermione smiled weakly. Luna couldn't possibly know that… but it was still a comfort—her reassurance. Her head shot up when the front door creaked open, and she turned with shocked eyes to find Harry, cold and shaken, but otherwise uninjured.

He looked into the house with a surprised apathy, and she saw a deep confusion in his jade eyes. Before she could help it, Hermione's face began to flood with tears, and she sobbed loudly as she flung herself at the bedraggled teen.

"Harry! Oh my god, Harry!"

Harry couldn't find words in his throat, so he merely patted the girl's back to sate her and swallowed uncomfortably.

Finally, she pulled back and looked at him with watery eyes, her hands gripping his shoulders. "How did you escape?" she asked, staring at him unblinkingly.

Harry couldn't help but notice the group of people crawl a bit closer at that question. Their expressions were worried, eager, and really, really naïve. He frowned and his brows knit together. Hermione took this as a bad sign and she shrunk back.  
"D-did you get tortured?" she questioned softly, "Did you kill someone?"

Harry looked up at her in shock, realizing that she must have thought back to the other night when he had been captured before—the night he had killed Bellatrix Lestrange. He shook his head numbly. "No… I didn't kill anyone."

Strangely, Hermione's worried expression only got stronger, and the group pulled closer. "Harry…" Hermione said timidly—cautiously. "What happened?"

"I just…" Harry trailed off and looked at Ron's shaking form. Draco was staring at him from the tableside, his expression unreadable. "I… To—Voldemort, I mean—attacked me and I fought him, but for some reason he was weak and I disarmed him." Harry's eyes widened a fraction at this statement, in a mirror of a sort of realization, but he quickly pushed his countenance back to an apathetic confusion. Only Draco noticed, but that was because Harry had been facing him at the time.

When Harry realized all eyes were still avidly on him, he continued. "So I took the opportunity and I ran," he said, deciding to leave out _where _he had run from and _what _he had done before he ran. Actually… he wasn't really sure where it was Voldemort had taken him. It couldn't have possibly been his home, could it? Did the Dark Lord even _have _a home?

"How did you run? Weren't there Death Eaters?"

Harry recognized the voice of Dean Thomas, and he immediately cursed the boy internally. "Y-yeah, there were loads of them," Harry lied, "But I guess I just surprised them, that's all. They didn't have time to react." He looked down at the floor, averting his eyes from the curious gazes. Hopefully they would buy it.

"Wow." This time the voice was Cho Chang's. "That's brilliant, Harry. I so glad you're okay."

Harry sighed mentally as the rest of the ex-students murmured in agreement. He started when Hermione touched his arm. She didn't pull away. Instead, she nodded towards the table.

Remembering himself and feeling immensely guilty for not asking earlier, Harry hurried to the table. "What happened to him?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Hermione removed the cloth from Ron's forehead and dabbed at his sweaty temples gently. His eyes were shut, but it was no mockery of sleep. They were shut tightly and the eyes moved frantically beneath the lids.

"He forgot about the potion's side-effect," Hermione said weakly. "I don't know how it happened, but…" She started to sob and Harry couldn't find it in himself to comfort her. "His arm, Harry! He lost his arm!"

The news hit Harry like a slug in the gut. He felt the blood drain from his face and the pupils in his eyes dilated until there was almost no green left. His mouth went dry, and he attempted to lick his lips, only succeeding in letting his mouth hang open dumbly. His eyes drug slowly across Ron's body to his sheet-covered abdomen.

"Which one?" he asked dryly.

"The right," Hermione responded lifelessly. "From the elbow down."

When Harry didn't respond, she continued, looking up a Draco briefly. "We… that is… Mr. Malfoy gave us blood replenishing and pain potions, but it wasn't nearly enough."

Harry swung his gaze back to the somber witch. "Mr. Malfoy?" he asked incredulously, looking over at Draco. How wrong had his judgments been about the Malfoy's? He felt a sickening wave of disgust for his own ignorance.

The blonde opened his mouth partially to reply, but his voice was as caught in his throat as Harry's was in his. They stared at each other quietly before both looking away; Draco at the wall and Harry at Ron.

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry inquired, quickly losing his will to stand. He wobbled a bit on his feet.

It took Hermione a moment to realize he was talking about Ron. "I don't know. I… We can't tell the others where we are, but he needs medical attention. Mr. Malfoy healed his arm… but we need someone who could… who could—"

"Give him a new one," Harry finished solemnly.

Hermione whirled on him, her face full of raw emotion and her brown hair swishing through the air. "Well, yes!" she cried. "You said Voldemort did it for Pettigrew, didn't you?! Someone else has to know how! They have to!"

Luna walked over and pulled the hysterical girl into an embrace just as she began to cry again. Harry looked back at Ron and felt his heart thud painfully. Turning towards the door, he began to leave the room, heading outside.

"Harry, where are you going?" Ginny asked, standing from the couch.

He looked back, but he wasn't really _looking_ at her. His eyes were dull and tired. "I just need some time. Some air. I'll come back in soon and I'll talk to you all," Harry answered, looking back at the door before adding a last thought. "…It's nice to see all of you, it really is."

He sighed and twisted his back, stretching it, before opening the front door and walking out into the nighttime snow.

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Voldemort inspected Harry's wand critically as he walked at a leisurely pace down the cold, stone corridor.

"So this is the little stick that has caused me so much trouble?" He chuckled cynically and his red eyes flickered up to the end of the hall as he heard footsteps. They were hurried at first, but as soon as they became aware of his presence, they slowed, trying to feign calmness.

"Lucius," Tom purred. "What a surprise."

Lucius surveyed the Dark Lord for a moment, trying to determine what had happened and, more importantly, where Harry was. Severus shifted uncomfortably behind him and he bowed as if this had been a queue. "My Lord," he said silkily. "I received your warning that you were coming to my home, yet when I arrived, you were not there. Not only that, but upon my arrival I found two of the brats Potter travels with, but… no Potter. I was merely both curious and worried."  
"Worried about who?" Voldemort hissed softly, tucking Harry's wand into his robe pocket and walking slowly forward. "Potter or me?"

"You, naturally, milord," Lucius said without hesitation. "It was impossible to ascertain what had happened. Severus thought it best if we come here. After all, if you have the boy, we most surely want to be present-"

"I do not have the boy, Lucius," the Dark Lord snapped tersely. "So you can stow away your excitement for now."

Lucius, interpreting the sudden outburst for a disappointment about losing to Potter, bowed once more. "Then we will leave you, my Lord. Unless there is anything you might need of us?"

"No, you may go," Tom said absently, waving his hand in dismissal and continuing down the hall to his quarters. He had no desire to ask what Lucius had done with Harry's companions. He didn't care.

Lucius and Severus looked at each other for a short moment. Was Voldemort telling the truth? Was Harry really ok? One thing was for certain, they could not prove they boy's condition to themselves at the moment. The Dark Lord would know if they did not leave. So, grudgingly, they returned o the disapparation wards and left, keen on discussing this latest development.

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Harry stood out on the porch of the cabin, his robes wrapped tightly around him even though his did not truly mind the cold. It felt good, actually.

The door creaked open and he continued to stare out into the dark forest. Soft footsteps stopped beside him and the visitor remained silent for a moment, sharing in his contemplation.

When they spoke, Harry realized that it was Draco Malfoy who had joined him.

"Why did you lie in there?" Draco asked, blowing a strand of platinum hair out of his face and pushing his thin hands deeper into his cloak pockets.

Harry didn't look at him. Suddenly, he felt angry. "That's a dangerous question to ask, Malfoy," Harry spat.

The taller boy merely shrugged. "It's just a fact, Potter. No need to be so touchy."

Harry frowned and looked at his feet, his anger abating. "How did you know?"

"I'm a Slytherin. Lying is our specialty."

Harry turned his head and studied the teen at his side. He looked different as he stared into the forest. His blonde hair was ruffled from stress and wind, and his face held no contempt or viciousness. He looked almost normal. Just like any other one of his schoolmates. It was strange how he'd so easily alienated Draco. Harry had made him seem, at least in his own perception, like he was nothing more than a venomous reptile. Was he actually more than that?

Grey eyes met his own and the question was repeated. "So, are you going to tell me why you lied? Was it so hard to tell them what actually happened?"

Harry groaned and let himself fall back to the wall of the cabin. "Yes, it was," he replied, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he breathed in the cold air deeply. He heard Draco lean against the wall beside him.

"When you said you disarmed him…" Draco shifted so he was facing the raven-haired wizard. "You remembered something else."  
Harry placed his hand on his forehead as if feeling for a fever. "Why do you want to know so much?" he asked, looking back into grey eyes.

Draco scowled, but it wasn't out of anger, just annoyance. "Like it or not, Potter, we're in this together now."

This statement struck Harry oddly, somehow. He stared at Draco blankly, once again looking at him as if he'd never seen him before.

"Oh, bloody hell, stop looking at me like you're so shocked," the young Malfoy growled, flipping back to look at the forest. "Just because you don't get along with someone doesn't mean they're evil, Potter. Surely Dumbledore taught you that."

"He taught me a lot of things before he died," Harry said coldly. The mention of his mentor brought back images from that night—images of Draco threatening to kill Dumbledore.

Draco glanced back at him, and Harry was thrown by what he saw. The blonde's eyes were full of immense shame and pain. "Don't you dare, Potter," he said gruffly. "Don't you dare."

"I'm… I'm sorry." Harry found himself apologizing. He didn't know what else to do, and if felt like the right thing, even if it was strange. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Draco said tonelessly, turning away again. "I know you were close to him."  
Harry nodded. "The thing I remembered," he said suddenly. "When I was talking in there..."

Draco looked back at him, expressionless.

"I remembered that when I disarmed him," Harry said slowly, hardly believe he could have even done something so stupid. "Is that I was disarmed too. And I… was in such a hurry to get out that I—"

Harry's head shot up as Draco began to laugh. "Why the hell are you laughing?!" Harry exclaimed, "It's not fucking funny!"

"I can't believe you forgot your wand!" Draco gasped, a grin plastering his face. Somehow Harry couldn't stay furious while Draco was grinning. It was just too _weird_ to see him _grinning._ "Trust you to do that, Harry. Only you."

"Well I—" Harry stopped short. "Did you call me Harry?"

Draco paled, then stuck his nose up into the air and looked away. "Well it's your name isn't it?"

"Er… yeah, it is."

"So what're you going to do?" Draco said, coughing.

"What?" Harry looked perplexed.  
"Your wand, smart one," Malfoy retorted.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "I really don't."

Draco pushed himself away from the wall and walked towards the edge of the porch. The air was silent as he thought, a few crickets chirping in the distance. "Why do I get the feeling," Draco turned back around to face Harry, his expression serious. "That if you went back to wherever it was that you just came from… that you _wouldn't _be in danger?"

Harry looked away.

"So it's true then?" Draco asked, looking only mildly surprised.

"I don't know," Harry replied, "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Somehow I don't think you believe that "maybe not"," Draco snorted, crossing his arms. "Look, _Potter_, I won't ask you what the hell is going on. I will give you an opinion, though."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Lucky me."

Draco ignored him. "If you're going to win this war for us, you'll need your wand."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Was Draco telling him to go back? "How do I know that you don't just want me to go back as some sort of trick to get me killed?"

This time it was Draco who rolled his eyes. "I know you don't think that. And by the looks of it, you don't think that, even if that was the case, that this would kill you anyway."

Harry clenched his fists. "Whatever you think you know—"

"I don't know anything, so calm down," Draco shrugged Harry's defensiveness off and started walking towards the door. He reached it and laid a pale hand on the handle, looking over his shoulder at Harry once more. "But I do know you need to take care of whatever it that's bugging you, and you need your wand. I have a feeling you can achieve both ends by going back. Then again, I know nothing." He smirked. "I'll tell them you're going for a walk. It'll buy you some time. They're too occupied with glaring at me, anyway."

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When Harry reached the middle of the forest he stopped, looking at the footsteps that marked his trail. He glared at his feet, as if they'd given him away.

What was he doing? Was he actually going back? He had to be crazy. He was a nutter. It was as simple as that—a bloody nutter.

He rubbed his forehead, cringing when his cold fingers worsened his headache. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, glancing back towards the direction of the cabin before disapparating, the hallway of that mysterious place glowing behind his eyelids.

When he arrived in the entryway of the stone corridors, Harry was vaguely shocked. He thought that, possibly, the enchantments would be too strong on the place for him to return. After all, if this was Voldemort's home… wouldn't that be the case?

In a quiet nervousness, he crept down the flickering light of the hall, his heart beating against his rib cage wickedly. Frantically, he looked from oak door to oak door. They all looked the same! A wave of panic hit him.

Which one was the room he had left his wand in?

He couldn't remember, and he automatically became furious with himself. How could he have rushed in here without even knowing where he needed to go? He'd fled the room so quickly before that he hadn't taken the time to look at where he was. He stopped mid-hall, slicing his hand through the air and stomping his foot angrily. "Dammit!" he growled.

"Feel any better? That was ridiculously juvenile, you know."

Harry swung around, his eyes narrowed. "Give me my wand, Tom," he snarled.

Voldemort looked unfazed, his reptilian features giving way to no emotion. Shrugging, he replied airily, "Your wand? Why would I have your wand?"

"Don't play dumb!" Harry shouted, not really knowing where his wrath had come from, but he wasn't about to control it. "I know you have it. Give it to me."

A rasping, mirthless chuckle resonated throughout the hall. "Even if I did have your wand, why would I give it to you?" Voldemort stated blandly, "After all, you are my enemy. Or did you forget that little tidbit of information?" His red eyes were taunting; mocking.

Harry let out a low growl. It was surprisingly animalistic.

"It seems as though you've forgotten our real relationship," the Dark Lord continued, his eyes darkening. "I am your enemy. You are mine. I _will_ kill you."  
"Go ahead and try," Harry retorted, turning his stance ridiculously defensive.

Voldemort chuckled again. "Well you do seem to be asking for it," he said thoughtfully, looking Harry up and down. "Why else would you willingly come to my home?"

Harry scowled. So this _was_ Voldemort's home. That answered a few questions.

"Then again," Tom said, sneering, "It looks like you don't really seem to think you are in danger here. What a very strange development. Very strange."

"Go to hell," Harry spat. "If you're going to kill me, then do it. I'm sick of your talk. Either kill me or give me back my wand. It's your choice."

Voldemort surveyed him for a moment. "Tempting decision." A few moments passed. "It would be no fun to kill you without your wand, Potter. It would be like killing a baby."  
"Well you already tried that, didn't you, Tom?" Harry said jeeringly. "Didn't work too well the last time."  
Riddle's smirk turned to a scowl before his apathetic mask slipped back over his features. "Indeed."

They stared each other down for a moment, eyes penetrating and calculating.

Voldemort was the first to move, and this movement was a turn, facing away from Harry. "Follow me then, boy. I'll give you your precious twig."

Harry bit back the urge to contest the statement. His wand wasn't a twig. But he knew there would be no point in such an argument. It would only drain him of more of his energy, and he had little left at this point.

Tom was walking slowly and deliberately, taking his time. Harry began to grow aggravated as he stared at the back of the man's black robes. It swung from side to side like ripples of water. The wizard had an elegant and domineering grace about him, and Harry couldn't help but observe him as he strode silently forward; worldless and authoritarian.

When the Dark Lord came to a stop, Harry almost ran into him. Tom merely gave him a disinterested look and opened a door that Harry hadn't noticed, gesturing for the young wizard to follow him inside.

Harry obeyed without question, only realizing the sheer stupidity of this once he was in the room. By then, he deduced that it was too late to hesitate, so he gave in to the tough prospect of not actually having to fear Voldemort. At least for the time being.

Harry's eyebrows rose quietly. This room was nothing like the dank, musty stones of the rest of this unfriendly place. Quickly realizing that it was a bedroom, from the sight of the elegant king-sized bed directly in front of him, he blanched, a small blush creeping up on his cheeks. He was in Lord Voldemort's personal chambers!

He'd seen glimpses of this room before in his visions, but those flickering images were nothing compared to being there. It was nothing extraordinary—not by any means—but it was elegant, like its owner, and very tasteful. The dominating colors were dark red and mahogany, and a fire crackled eternally in the hearth to his left. The walls were maroon, like the upholstery, but the floors were a gleaming wood that matched the bedposts and desk to his right.

"Once you're done examining my rooms, would you care to actually _take _your wand?" Voldemort remarked snidely from the desk. Harry started and blushed more deeply. He almost let an apology slip, but he quickly caught himself. He would not apologize to the Dark Lord.

Tom was holding Harry's wand loosely, his arm hanging out and waiting for the boy to take it. As if to prove this, he twitched the wand impatiently. Complying with the silent request, Harry reached his hand out, not quite grasping the wood of his wand. His eyes lingered on the pale, greenish skin that held it, a harsh contrast to the dark sheen of the phoenix stick.

His fingers trembled. Why was he hesitating? Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the wand, but Voldemort did not let go. Looking up, Harry let his eyes meet scarlet ones. Tom's expression was clouded and unreadable. Harry felt his hand move of its own accord as he tried to determine what emotion lay in the depths of the eyes in front of him. Perhaps if he saw the other eyes… Maybe then he would understand how Voldemort was looking at him. Maybe then he would understand why he even cared what the emotion was.

The skin of his fingers slipped slowly over Tom's. The change was instantaneous, but they did not break eye contact. If anything, it became more fervent.

"You play a very dangerous game, Harry," Voldemort said, his voice barely audible over the hum of Harry's heartbeat.

Harry didn't know what he was doing. At least, that's what he convinced himself. If he admitted he knew what he was doing, that would bring this into a whole different territory. He didn't want to go there. He couldn't. Slowly, his fingers twisted his wand out of the Dark Lord's hand. It clattered to the floor like the sound of something vulgar. His heart lurched as his hand slid up to the older man's wrist, and his own eyes fell to watch the movement. The feeling of Tom's skin was strange. It was rough, yet smooth in places. The hair on his forearm was interestingly pale, and only by touch could you really tell it was there. This felt so personal.

That thought made Harry stop, his hand gripping Voldemort's wrist. He felt Tom's muscles tense, and before he knew it, the man returned the grip on his own wrist and he yanked him forward, their bodies almost touching. Tom's other hand still hung limply at his side. Harry could feel his stare in the top of his head and he looked up, quivering as their eyes met.

Their faces were close; inches apart. Riddles hot breathe puffed onto Harry's lips and he shivered.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Voldemort said, his voice changed almost imperceptibly with a husky tenor.

Harry suddenly couldn't keep his eyes open. They drifted halfway closed, lingering on the precipice, and his lips parted. Blinking, he forced his eyes to open fully and he stared strongly up at the older wizard's face. Tightening his grasp slightly, he pulled at the arm until their chests touched—just barely.

Before he knew what had happened, Harry was pinned against the wall, large hands on his chest and ravenous lips on his own. A fire engulfed him and he lost himself in the kiss, moaning with abandon as he kissed back, battling the tongue that fell into his mouth.

He felt like he had wanted this for ages.

He _had _wanted this or ages. He just hadn't admitted it.

Voldemort's hands slid down his sides and gripped his hips roughly, pulling their bodies together completely. Letting out a gasp and parting the kiss, Harry titled his head back to rest against the wall as he gripped the man's collar.

Tom took advantage of the new position and latched his mouth onto Harry's lean neck, making sure to leave a mark that would remind the teen of this day for a long while to come.

Harry let out a hiss as Voldemort nipped at his collar bone as his hands slid under Harry's shirt. Palms brushed softly over pert nipples, and Harry bit his lip. He'd never felt anything like this. Harry barely noticed when Tom slipped his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor along with his robes. He wanted to repay the favor, but he couldn't find the strength once a thin mouth latched onto his left nipple and bit hard. It seemed that Voldemort was ahead of him anyway. His robes were already in the pile on the floor and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing a smooth, pale chest.

Harry pulled at the buttons violently, ripping a few of them off as he slid the shirt off of the Dark Lord, fully exposing his upper body. Tom gave him an amused look, pulling back and quirking an eyebrow.

"Come here," Harry whispered, throatily, threading his fingers through Riddle's hair and pushing on the back of his head. Surprisingly enough, Tom complied, and their body's clashed together, bare chests pressed flush against one another. The kiss was renewed, and Tom pulled at Harry's bottom lip with his own before licking it and dipping his tongue into the velvet case that was the younger wizard's mouth.

Tom's hips ground forward into Harry's swelling erection, and Harry's eyes rolled back as his lids closed in ecstasy. Sliding his hands underneath Harry's thighs, Voldemort lifted the boy into the air. Harry wrapped his legs around Tom's waist, his eyes shut tight. Tom continued to move slowly, clenching his teeth as he felt the contours of Harry's back. With his best effort, he pushed away from the wall and held Harry to him, walking to the bed.

He threw the young wizard down on the bed, none too gently as he grasped his forearm to keep contact, and quickly followed him, pinning the teen down on the bed with his own body. He leaned forward and kissed Harry quickly, muttering something against his lips as his thumbs hooked the top of Harry's pants and pulled.

Harry moaned loudly when his erection was finally freed, hitting the cold air of the room and glistening with precum. Tom's pants soon followed, and Harry dug his nails into the older man's shoulders as their burning skin touched.

For the first time in the whole exchange, Harry heard Tom let out a low groan. He forced his eyes open and went dizzy at the sight of the lust-filled eyes before him. Riddle's lips were swollen and red, his face flushed, and his dark hair glistening with sweat. It was an entirely erotic sight.

"Ungh… Tom," Harry sighed, closing his eyes as Voldemort's lips captured his own in a slow, passionate kiss. When Harry felt slick fingers on his bum, he started a little before calming from Tom's distracting kisses. His eyes shot open when one finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, and he couldn't help but squirm a little. It felt so real. Why were they so slick, anyways?

His head fell to the left, facing the head of the bed. An open bottle was there. So that's what Tom had said against his lips. He was summoning that.

Harry had no more time to think on it as two more fingers quickly joined the first, stretching him uncomfortably. His eyes squeezed shut again and he grunted in discomfort. Seeing this, Tom grabbed Harry's erection and began to caress it slowly, running the pad of his thumb over the head before stroking the vein underneath. Harry let out a garbled moan and almost forgot about the fingers in ass completely.

However, the relief did not last long. The fingers left, and Harry felt strangely abandoned. The hand left his own throbbing need shortly afterwards. Opening his eyes, he saw that Tom was distracted. He was looking down and pushing at Harry's legs, spreading them wider. Why was he… oh Merlin! Harry's eyes widened.

Voldemort didn't, apparently, think Harry needed any time for adjustment, and he abruptly shoved his cock into the tight hole before Harry could protest. Harry let out a pained shout and gripped the Dark Lord tightly, breathing heavily. The pain was unbelievable. He felt like he'd just been ripped in two.

He winced as Tom shifted, thinking he was going to move, but he didn't. Instead, Tom put his hands on either side of Harry's chest and rested up on his elbows, staring Harry straight in the face. His breathing was uneven and his cheeks red from the exertion and lust, but his eyes were calm. He stared at Harry with an impenetrable gaze, and Harry felt himself beginning to relax.

As soon as the pain began to fade and his breathing slowed, Tom began to move; slowly, at first; but it didn't stay that way for long. He couldn't control himself any longer, and he pulled almost completely out, thrusting back in forcefully. Harry cried out again, this time in pleasure as Tom hit the sweet spot inside of him. Arching his back, he tried as best as he could to meet Tom's thrusts, lifting his hips so the older wizard could go even deeper. The pace was wild and rough, and Harry's clawed at Tom's chest, crying out every time Tom thrust into him. He felt the tingling warmth begin to pool in his gut and clutched Tom closer, reaching to pull at his own neglected erection.

Getting the point, Voldemort picked up the pace, taking care to hit Harry's prostate every time. Soon, the green eyes snapped open and then closed, a shout echoing in the room as Harry came, his cum decorating both their abdomens.

Unable to withstand the pressure as Harry's inner walls tightened, Tom leaned forward and bit Harry's shoulder, thrusting in one last time as he came with a hiss of pleasure.

Harry, completely exhausted, let his legs fall from Tom's waist. Slowly, the older man lowered his body down on top of Harry. Their breathing was heavy and ragged. Harry slipped his hand onto Tom's back and marveled at the sweaty skin. His mind was reeling, but he couldn't pull his thoughts together.

After a few moments, Tom pulled out was a slick sound and rolled to his side, facing Harry with his hand resting on the younger man's chest. His expression was unreadable, and Harry thought he saw a hint of anger there. He felt a twinge of regret and he looked away.

"No," Tom said softly, "Don't look away. Not yet." Harry turned, his heart thrumming at the vulnerability in the Dark Lord's voice.

Tom's hand slid up to Harry's jaw, stroking it once before tightening his grip, bordering on painful but not quite there, and leaning forward until their lips ghosted across each other's. "Don't think that this changes anything," he said. He pressed his lips forward to Harry's gently. Harry returned it softly and he pulled back. "But for now…" He didn't finish, but he pulled Harry close.

Harry's back pressed against Tom's chest, and he felt an utterly ridiculous thrill of safety run through him. It was then that it hit him; what had just happened, and _who_ he had done it with. Even through the racing thoughts of guilt and disgust, he somehow found solace in the arms of the man who held him, and as he weakly tried to hold onto his last bits of sanity, they faded away and he slowly closed his eyes, succumbing to the ever-so seductive lure of sleep.

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When Harry awoke, he was alone and dressed. His robes were on the edge of the bed and slowly the memories of what had happened came back to him. He sat up stiffly, his bum aching, and looked around for the Dark Lord. He was nowhere to be found.

Harry was grateful for this.

Rubbing his eyes, he realized that his vision was blurry and he fumbled around the bedside table for his glasses. They were sitting there neatly, along with his wand.

He stared at the wand for a moment, his eyes blank.

Then, without a sound, he fell back onto the bed and curled up on his side, pulling his legs to his chest.

And then he began to cry.

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**Ok, this is the first time I've written….. well….. this, so I'd really like to know if it was any good. This was a really important moment for the story too, so I had a lot of pressure on me to make it work.**

**Just to let you know, don't expect that they're gonna be all lovey-dovey now... like… Voldemort isn't going to suddenly be like "Oh I love Harry! Let's stop this silly war!" It doesn't work that way, dears.**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	18. Remorse

**A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update. I was…. keeping you all in suspense…. Yes, that's it!!! SUSPENSE!!! Besides, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. **

**Meriemo: XD Thanks a great deal for the… inspiration. Might I suggest that you receive medical attention? Jumping out of a window naked can't be good for the back… twitch**

**Elia Black-cat:** ** Many thanks. Your review was both intelligent and flattering. **

**Shinimoeru: Thank you :-3**

**Cozy: I've really enjoyed talking to you and venting my FT frustrations into your inbox. XD Thanks for the great chats and I hope this chapter is what you've been waiting for.**

**A/N 2: Since we had the "big" scene last chappie, I've had quite a few questions. Let me clarify some things.**

**1. One person said that they thought when Tom and Harry finally "did it" that Tom would look like himself again and not Voldemort because sex is like the ultimate… taction. Let me explain the touch thing between the two, because this is a misinterpretation of what their contact actually is.**

**Harry has a piece of Voldemort's soul in him. The piece that he has was made when Voldemort was human, so when it comes into contact with Voldie-poo, it changes him back to the form it believes he should be. This cannot be exchanged between the two. Tom can't just take the piece of soul back, even through the more intimate of touchings.**

**I'm going to give you a blatant hint here. When you are around your own horcrux and it is an inanimate object, you will feel pain. When you are around your horcrux and it is in an ANIMATE object, the life of the carrier dilutes the pain to the point of nonexistence. **

**2. Which brings me to the next question. Why is Harry acting oblivious all the time? Has he forgotten about the war? I mean, come on, just because he's practically having an affair with his enemy doesn't mean that he's going to forget the war, no matter how lunkheaded he is.**

**Too true. Harry hasn't forgotten about the war in the least. His friends are wounded and dying and he has a mission to pretty much "save the world". For someone as emotional and juvenile as he is, it's very hard for him to handle. At the moment, he's in denial, which is one of the reasons he has so easily accepted his own PHYSICAL feelings towards Tom. **

**We all know how hotheaded he is and how dumb he can be. The confusing things happening to him aren't helping, but don't worry, he's going to snap out of it, in a way, very, very soon. Then again, snapping out of his stupor just means here comes Angry!andStubborn!Harry. …….yay**

**3. Some people think Tom is being to gentle and accepting of this relationship. Is he? He may be in less denial than Harry, but he's still confused. He loathes himself for what he's doing and how he's feeling. The reason why he so easily gave into sleeping with Harry is because his desire to FEEL with the body that Harry gave him is overpowering, and he's really just using Harry for his own personal gain at the moment. However, even while he's having some selfish motives, he's also disgusted with himself for being so "weak". You'll see.**

**4. Someone mentioned that in the books it was said that a person who made a horcrux could only retrieve their soul fragments and become whole again if they felt intense remorse. **

**Well thought of. That's indeed true and will come up later. However, someone who could tear apart their soul like that in the first place would most likely be unable to feel such pure remorse. Do you really think Voldie could feel entire, all encompassing, unadulterated remorse? **

**The world may never know…….nyahahaha**

**Now…. Read, please. :P**

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_Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead  
Yesterday is a promise that you've broken  
Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes  
This is your life and today is all you've got now  
Yeah, and today is all you'll ever have  
Don't close your eyes  
Don't close your eyes_

_This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be  
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose_

_Yesterday is a kid in the corner  
Yesterday is dead and over_

_This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be  
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose_

_Don't close your eyes  
Don't close your eyes  
Don't close your eyes  
Don't close your eyes_

_This is your life are you who you want to be  
This is your life are you who you want to be_

_This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, are you who you want to be  
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed it would be  
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose_

_And you had everything to lose_

_-Switchfoot – This is Your life_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 18- Remorse

When Harry had finally calmed himself down, he realized with horror that the group at the cabin were probably frantic by now. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he was certain that it was longer than a walk in the woods would take.

Shoving his glasses painfully onto his nose and grabbing his robes and wand, he stood on wobbly legs and started for the door. How would he explain this? He would never be able to make up a valid excuse this time. He was done for.

Peeking a head of messy hair out into the hall, he looked left, then right, and sighed when he saw that it was empty. Pushing himself out of the room and shutting the door quietly, he hurried down the corridor, looking around corners and over his shoulder every few seconds.

Somehow he knew he wouldn't see Voldemort. At least, he hoped he wouldn't. He didn't know what he would do if he saw him.

Finally, after a rather annoying trek around the manor, he found the entrance hall where the anti-apparition wards were placed. Throwing his robes back on, he cast one last glance down the corridor, his green eyes sparkling as he disapparated.

When he arrived in the middle of the snow, he fell momentarily off balance, stumbling a bit on his cold feet. Forgetfulness and panic overwhelmed him and he spun around in the cold air. Which way was the cabin?

His breathe was coming in short pants now and his eyes were wide. The later he was, the worse the repercussions would be. He never should have gone…

"Merlin, Potter, calm—hey!"

Harry ran face first into someone. Thin hands grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away, revealing a very hassled looking Draco in front of him.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Draco huffed.

Harry's shoulders slumped and he shut his eyes. "How long have I been gone?"

Draco sensed the worry in the other teen's voice and he shrugged. "No need to worry. It was just long enough to make them worry, but not to panic. It's been about three quarters of an hour."

Harry sighed in relief, looking up moments later with a bemused expression. "Wait… they sent _you_ to find me?"

The blonde shook his head lazily, looking back in what Harry now thought to be the direction of the cabin. "No, but I managed to make them think they were all being stupid. It's not hard, really…" He quirked an eyebrow and smirked.

Harry chuckled. He just couldn't help it. With a lopsided grin, he shoved Draco's shoulder and began to walk in the direction of the boy's footsteps. "Aw, bugger off," he grunted, trying to cover his amusement. He heard the younger Malfoy move to follow him and if he had taken a moment to look back, he would have seen the Slytherin smiling as well.

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When Harry and Draco returned, Harry was smothered with the hugs and questions of his worried friends. Through all the craze, he managed to tell them all that he had merely gotten lost in though as he walked, and that it was nothing to worry about. He then quickly turned the conversation to Ron, who was now quivering a bit less, but looked no better.

"I just don't know what we're going to do, Harry," Hermione said tiredly, dabbing at Ron's forehead with a cloth softly. "He won't be able to come with us anymore."

"What?" Harry jerked back, startled, and glared at Hermione as if she'd cursed him. "What are you talking about? It's not as if he's dead!"

Hermione frowned at him sympathetically. It annoyed him. "Harry… his arm—"

"That doesn't mean he can't come with us!" Harry interrupted, his voice almost a snarl. "You just want to leave him here like… like some cripple?!"

The whole room was quiet.

"Harry…" Hermione began to tear up again, and Harry felt momentarily guilty. "His arm… it's his _wand _arm."

The scowl fell from the young wizard's face and he looked upon his fallen friend, eyes wide in comprehension. "Oh," he choked.

He couldn't take it in. He couldn't comprehend it. No Ron? It wasn't possible. He couldn't imagine going to search for the horcruxes without the redhead. He felt another strike of guilt at the thought. He still had Hermione. But… it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same without Ron… and he wouldn't be there anymore.

Harry clenched his fists and felt heat rise to his cheeks. Tears threatened to come, but he forced them back. He would not cry in front of all these people.

All these people…. All these _children_ who were staring at him in fear and confusion; expecting things from him… waiting for him to give the next order.

"I'm going to bed," Harry said weakly, not looking at anyone. He felt sick. He wanted to throw up, but somehow he couldn't find the strength to. Slowly, he trudged his way to his room and shut the door behind him. Night seeped through the window, casting a dark blue hue over his bed. He fell face first into it, daring himself to stop breathing and see what would happen.

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It was hours before he heard the door creak open and close. His eyes blinked open from a light sleep and he winced, realizing he'd forgotten to take his glasses off. Sitting up, Harry took off the offending object and rubbed his nose. There were deep grooves there now.

The person shifted and Harry looked up. He had forgotten what woke him.

"What's with your sudden interest in me?" Harry asked, putting his glasses back on his tender nose. "I get back to this cabin and can't seem to get away from you." His voice held no emotion. It was just tired; thick.

Draco shrugged. "Figured I might as well join the Potter fan club," he retorted, pulling something from his pocket. He wasn't wearing his cloak anymore, just a grey shirt and slacks. "I came to give you this. Better sooner than later." He held the object out.  
Harry surveyed the locket for a moment before he took it. "You know what this is?" he asked, not looking up from the heavy item in his hand.

"Yeah, my father explained it all. Dangerous business, messing with those, Potter."

Harry nodded tiredly, as if he'd heard it all before. He had, but Draco didn't know that. "I don't suppose you know any ways to inhibit the dark magic in items, do you?" Harry asked sarcastically, only to look up in surprise when Draco drew his wand.

"Actually, I do," the blonde said casually. "Borgin taught it to me a while back. Completely incinerates any item infused with dark magic. Don't know if it will work on this, though."

Harry snorted, remembering the scraggly shop owner of Borgin and Burkes, a store of the worst kind of dark items. "So, let's do it then," Harry said, holding the locket out. His voice shook. It did not go unnoticed by the young Malfoy.

"The spell…it's a bit… abrasive," Draco said, nodding back towards the door that led to the living room.

Harry understood. "We'll go out the window, then," he said purposefully, pushing away from the bed and rounding it to the fogged glass. Unlatching the hook, he pushed up the window frame, shuddering sharply when the cold air hit him. He looked around the room for his cloak, but he'd left it out in the living room. So much for being even vaguely comfortable. With a quick glance at Draco, Harry crawled out of the window and landed in the snow with a soft crunch. Another crunch followed not long after and Draco was standing beside him. "How bad?" Harry asked.

"Bad," Draco responded, looking down at the locket in Harry's hand. "Let's go out a bit. We can use a silencing charm."

They began to walk.

"You sure this will work?" Harry grumbled, stepping over a snow-covered log.

"Already said I wasn't."

The raven-haired wizard sighed and stopped. Pulling his wand out of his back pocket, he spun around in a circle, casting a large silencing charm around the area. Turning to Draco, he held the heavy locket out again. "Let's do it."

Draco raised his wand and cleared his throat before catching himself. "Wait, you don't want to be holding it. Put it on a tree branch or something."

Harry grimaced in the memory of the destruction of Ravenclaw's diadem. He didn't want a repetition of things. Hanging the chain around a low branch of a nearby tree, Harry stepped back beside Draco and waited.

"Attero Caliga!" the blonde cried, a violent silver jet of light shooting out of the end of his wand.

When the spell hit the locket, the air around them burst into a blinding brightness. The ground shuddered and shook like giants were near, and Harry's arm shot protectively over his face to block it all out. A horrendous scream emanated from the locket, the branch that it had once hung upon long since incinerated.

Draco cried out and shut his eyes, cutting off his vision in doing so. Harry was the only one who saw what happened next. The thick metal of the locket began to break apart like shattered porcelain as the screams began to crackle and fade.

Harry anticipated what was to come a moment before it happened. With a yell, he jumped in front of Draco and shoved the boy backwards, looking back up to the locket for a split second before it exploded, sending thin, needle-like shards in every direction. He couldn't hold the silencing charm any longer.

Just yards away, Hermione Granger awoke as she felt her chair shiver angrily. She lifted her head from the kitchen table and glanced at Ronald Weasley, thinking the tremor had come from the ill wizard.

The pained scream she heard moments later suggested otherwise.

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Tom was pacing back and forth in the library of his manor, an unusually weak display for a man of his stature. However, he seemed to neither notice nor care about this issue, his pale, hairless brows knit together in thought.

He wanted to be thinking of victory, power, and ultimate goals, but the only thoughts that encompassed him were of how it had felt to engage in the most primal of instincts with none other than Harry Potter. His mind went over how it had felt a thousand times; to feel with that body, to have that body felt. Experiencing pleasure in his own "real" skin—as he'd come to call it—was more enticing a drug than anything else he had ever known.

He had come to lament entirely the loss of contact between him and Harry. Every time he reverted back to his normal self, it was a stab in the chest; fate laughing at him—scorning…sneering like a cruel child.

All he knew was the sensation, the feeling of humanity that he had deprived himself of. It had become his obsession, his darkest desire, and what he believed to be his ultimate downfall. He had first blamed it all on Harry Potter; comforted by placing trial on the boy instead of himself. It was Harry who turned him into someone else; Harry who perplexed him and enraged him to the utmost of his levels; Harry who gave him everything he dreamed of and then took it away; Harry, the boy he was destined to destroy—the boy who was destined to destroy him.

No, it wasn't Harry.

It was him, Voldemort.

He had destroyed himself.

He had brought upon his own misery.

He had created his own fate.

The Dark Lord had known this fact for a long time, and though he'd never come to terms with it entirely, he had accepted it enough to continue; move forward. But now he was stagnating, pausing every time he met his enemy, he was moving nowhere, forced to relive the same weakness time and time again.

Footsteps.

Tom stopped his pacing and turned towards the door. The were soft, lopsided, and nervous.

Harry.

He adjusted his robes and closed his eyes in concentration, within the time of a blinking eye, he had opened them again to find himself no more visible than the air around him. He crept through the opening of the cracked door just in time to see the boy in question turn the corner. He followed him, silently, and watched as he reached the anti-apparition ward, turning around and taking one last look of… what was that emotion? His face was heavy and red, eyes swollen and glittering.

Had Potter been crying?

Tom found himself more curious than abhorrent of this behavior. Harry glanced down the hall and Riddle found himself questioning the actions. Was the glance one of disdain, petulance, relief?

Harry turned to apparate, but stopped himself for a brief second, his eyes shooting back down the corridor before he disapparated.

The Dark Lord dropped the invisibility charm. Hi expression blank, but mind bemused.

That look had been one of hesitance.

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Hermione bit back tears as a terrified group of onlookers huddled around the couch. She had run into the snow barefoot, panicked and on pure instinct. What she had come to find would have normally shocked her beyond repair, but the horrors of the day had numbed her.

It was almost merciful that she had little left to feel at the moment.

They had laid Harry on the couch, seeing as Ron was already on the table. It felt like the room was piling up with the wounded. Each occupant found themselves wondering if they would be next as they stared down in a morbid fascination upon and unconscious Harry.

"Is he…?" Colin Creevey's voice shook as he tried to look at Harry through the group.

Hermione shook her head weakly. "No… he's passed out. Probably from the pain…" her voice broke and she had to stop.

"But there's so much blood—"

"He's going to be fine!" Hermione snapped, getting up to grab her bag. Luna beat her to it and handed it to her with a sad expression.

Hermione took it and looked away. "I'm sorry, Colin. I just-"

"It's ok, really," Colin said bashfully. "Just help Harry. I won't be a bother anymore." The frail boy bowed his head and walked over to sit next to a sleeping Ron. A few others joined him, unable to look at Harry anymore. It was too much to bear.

Hermione shivered and shook as she grabbed a cloth and began to dab at the blood, too scared to pull any fragments of metal from the tender flesh. Harry's stillness in his soft breathing was even more unnerving. Shouldn't he be shaking? Hermione couldn't help but be frightened by his silence. It was all too ominous. She inspected the wounds as much as she could stomach to. He had lost a lot of blood, but not so much that it was life-threatening.

"What happened?" she finally managed to choke out, looking at Draco.

Draco swallowed loudly and a room of eyes turned accusingly towards him. "We…" he paused, trying to figure out how to explain to Hermione that they had destroyed the horcrux without letting the entire room in on the secret. He wasn't so dumb as to not notice that everyone there had no idea about the trio's mission. "We destroyed it." There. Simple. Blunt.

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction in understanding and there was a murmur of confusion in the room. "How?" Hermione whispered.

"Spell. It exploded," Draco replied as lowly as he could. "I didn't see what happened. He pushed me back. I…"

Hermione stared at him and he realized what he had said. Harry got because he had protected Draco. The young Malfoy mentally rolled his eyes. Trust Potter to always be the hero. Bloody idiot… He looked down at his shoes, something strange pulling at his gut.

"Draco…"

His head shot up and his eyes met Hermione's. The witch sighed and looked back at Harry. "Help me get him to his room."

The blonde nodded, and together they cast levitation charms on Harry's still form, slowly maneuvering him to the dark bedroom. A few ex-students tried to follow, but Hermione shook her head.

"I don't understand," Dean said angrily. "Why can _he_ go in? We're the ones who have been friends with Harry. We're his friends, not him!" He stomped his foot, rather childishly, and Hermione frowned.  
One of the Weasley twins walked up and pulled Dean away gently, nodding understandingly at the bushy haired girl. She grabbed her medical supplies and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

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When Harry woke up, he was terribly disoriented. He shook his head a bit, a strange pressure at the back of it. At first he thought it was still night time, but after he blinked a few times, he realized that his vision was blocked by something. Daylight poured through the window to his right, but no light reached to the left, it seemed.

Panicking, his hand shot up to his left eye. There was something covering it.

Bandages.

With a feeling of dull nausea, he felt his face slowly, running the tips of his fingers over the fabric that covered it. It was everywhere, the top of his nose, his cheeks, his eye, his chin, his forehead… Feeling the back of his head, he realized where the pressure had come from. The bandages were wrapped all around, mummy-style. He had a sudden urge to rip them off and run to a mirror. What had happened?

Why did he have bandages all over his face—his fingers traveled to his neck—and throat…

His hands began to shake and he forced a dry swallow down his throat. It was then that he felt the pain. It had taken a few minutes to settle in. He had felt the dull throb at first, thinking it was a headache, sore skin…

Now it stung, it burned, and it writhed all over, like his skin was trying to wrench itself from his body. He took a shaky breathe and a pained tear squeezed its way out of the corner of his right eye.

He screamed.

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When Tom felt the stab of fear and pain jolt through his system, he started. He knew it was from Harry, and a certain side of him wanted to give into the coming vision, but the other side did not.

Holding tightly to the arms of his chair and glaring at the wall ahead, he ignored it.

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Severus wrung his hands together and sighed, staring unblinkingly at the floor that had until just recently been covered in blood.

"How much blood replenishing potion did you give them?" he asked, eyes still riveted on the same spot.

His companion sighed. "Enough, I assure you. Just because you are the potions master, that doesn't mean I'm wholly incompetent. I did grow up with you, after all." The tone was sarcastic.

Snape pulled his hands apart and raised one to press his eyes shut. "Forgive me, Lucius," he groaned.

He heard a rustle of fabric. Lucius had shrugged. "No need to apologize, Severus. You're simply worried about them."

The sallow man frowned. "I'm not worried. Just annoyed." He pulled his eyes away from the floor, finally, and turned his gaze to the other man. "They cause more trouble than they have to. I've always got to clean up after them, the imbeciles."

Lucius chuckled dryly and rolled his eyes, moving to walk down the hall. Severus scowled at his back and followed, each stepped filled with disdain. They entered a room that could very easily be mistaken for a study. Desks and shelves of books were its only occupants, save for a large, dusty-looking rug on the floor.

"So where is it?" Severus inquired, looking down at the rug with distaste.

"So many questions," Lucius chided, walking over to a bookcase and tilting a large manual on gnome catching over onto its side. The bookcase gave way to a stone passage, torches lighting its path.

Severus snorted. "Tad bit cliché, don't you think?"

Lucius looked down the passage and frowned. "I wasn't exactly worried about pulchritude, dear friend. It suits my needs. Come now, we don't have much time. Narcissa will be returning soon. It's best we get this done quickly."

Severus nodded and the two entered the dark cavern. Their footsteps echoed like falling stones as they crept through the passage. Soon enough, the reached the end of it, and the footsteps slowed as they entered the room.

It was dark and cold; not a room that allowed relaxation of any sort. Papers were everywhere, laid out on tables, shelves, and even the floor. Scrolls sat again the wall and books and ledgers were fallen open with notes and splatters of ink within them. Hundreds of pages were everywhere. It was the makings of a library.

And it was a library of documentation.

The documentation of every follower, accomplishment, contact, connection, and plan of none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort.

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Ron awoke slowly, his body stiff and aching. He felt like he had been asleep for years, and he almost had to force his yes to open. He reached to rub them, but for some reason his arm wouldn't move. Perplexed, he tried again, still receiving no response from his limb. Had it fallen asleep or something?

With confused eyes, he moved his left arms instead and rubbed his eyes until they opened. The bed was really hard. What in the world was that all about? Had someone taken his mattress?

It was then that he noticed he was lying on wood. What the?

He turned his head and stared. He was looking at the living room. An extremely occupied living room. With about twenty people staring at him.

What. The. Hell.

Ron tried to sit up, but his back was almost as none responsive as his arm. He grunted as his sore muscles ignored him and he blushed, feeling very stupid in front of everyone. Why the hell was he on the bloody table?

His embarrassed eyes found Hermione. Her expression was panicked; sad. What had happened?

Ron's confusion and fear mounted by the second. Was Harry okay? Why was everyone here? What… what the fuck was Draco MALFOY doing in the cabin?

Hermione rose shakily from her chair and approached the petrified redhead slowly. "You're awake," she said softly. It sounded like she was about to cry.

Ron wasn't listening to her. He was beginning to feel worried about the fact that his arm was still numb. He tried to flex his hand, to no avail. It was like it wasn't even there.

"What the hell?" he grumbled, finally finding the strength to push himself up. The blanket fell from him as he moved into a sitting position. Hermione moved to stop him, gasping, but her voice as she began to speak failed to pass into his hearing. He didn't feel her hands and they grasped his shoulders. His eyes didn't see her tears. He couldn't breath. He couldn't think. Nothing existed.

His heart began to pound through his ribcage and his body began to shake. Heat rose to his face and panicked tears spilled from his eyes. He jumped off the table and spun around to face Hermione, his eyes never leaving the stump of his right arm.

"What?!" he cried, his eyes wide, animalistic. "What… I… AHH! He began to claw at the short appendage, as if the rest of it was hidden somewhere. When nothing appeared, he cradled it to his chest like a child and fell to his knees, sobbing.

Hermione rushed to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and stroking his back as he cried in fearful, short gasps.

"What--?" he tried again, his voice failing.

"The potion, Ron," Hermione choked out emotionally. "You fell into the wall."

"It's gone!!" he sobbed, grasping his shoulder helplessly. "It's gone!"

"I know, I know," Hermione soothed. "We'll fix it, I promise."

Before Ron could speak again, a pained scream came from Harry's room. All heads shot to the closed door. Hermione looked helplessly at Luna, who got the point and flitted airily over to the door, somehow managing to look carefree even as the palpable tragedy filled the room. She slipped through the door and shut it softly behind her.

And Hermione told Ron everything that had happened.

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Harry looked around the room frantically for his glasses. Where were they? He couldn't see without—wait…

Harry blinked once, then twice, and looked around with his uncovered eye. The room was crystal clear, not a single detail blurred. Confused, he raised his hand to his face. No glasses.

Another streak of pain ripped through his flesh and he screamed again, cradling his face softly as he cried out. A pale hand patted his shoulder and he jumped, looking up in surprise. Luna was smiling down at him from the side of his bed.

He looked at her for a moment, forgetting that Dumbledore's Army had joined them in the cabin. Another jolt of pain set him out of his thoughts, however, and he winced, biting his lip to keep from shouting.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"I haven't the foggiest!" Luna chirped, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Only Hermione and the Malfoy boy seem to know anything, and neither of them will tell me a single thing." She shrugged. "Though, I haven't actually asked…" She added thoughtfully.

Harry frowned at her. So something had gone wrong with the horcrux? He remembered going to the woods to destroy it. He remembered Draco casting the spell as well…. And he also remembered the locket shattering into a thousand pieces…. while he stared straight at it….

He touched the bandages on his face again.

Oh.

"How bad is it?" he managed to ask, not sure if he actually wanted to know.

"Oh, it's pretty bad," Luna replied, smiling at him in a sort of reassuring way. Reassuring for her, anyway. "But Hermione's very smart. She healed it as best as she could. I helped, of course. My father used to specialize in magical healing, you know. Before he started the Quibbler."

"No… I didn't know that…" Harry mumbled, looking at his bedcovers. "Why does it still hurt if you healed it?"

"We could only heal a bit, you see," Luna answered, inspecting his bandages as if she could see through them. "Hermione whispered something about wounds from dark objects. I expect they heal differently. We did fix your eyes, though. Came across a spell for sight correction in the healing book. I hope you like it!" She grinned giddily.

Harry stared at her, speechless. So the general idea was that they couldn't fix the gaping wounds on his face, but at least his eyesight was fixed!

Oh, well that was brilliant.

She continued to smile. "It's not too terrible, Harry," she said, apparently reading his mind; a rather disturbing thought. "Honestly. You're lucky, really. One of those pieces of metal barely missed your eye. This is a great day for your eyes!"

Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"Ah, and Ron is awake now."

Harry looked up quickly, his emerald eyes shooting to the door. "He is?"

"Oh yes," Luna said, nodding. "It was a terrible shock for him—seeing his arm. I felt very sorry for him. He looked scared. It reminds me of the time when—where are you going?"

"To see Ron," Harry replied, walking to the door and taking a deep breath.

"Okay," Luna responded, "I'll finish my story later then!"

Harry nodded and pulled open the door. "Yeah, later. Thanks for getting me."

Luna flopped down onto the bed, her arms spread out. "I'm happy to help!"

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Somehow, Harry had coaxed Ron to come outside onto the porch with him. However, it was ironically much more difficult to convince _Hermione_ to let them go alone.

They sat on the edge of the porch now, their boots resting on crisp, white snow. Harry didn't try to comfort Ron. He knew, somewhat, how he felt; and sometimes it felt better just to be left to your thoughts, without someone else trying to add to them. So he waited, instead, until Ron spoke on his own.

It didn't take very long.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Ron said stiffly, refusing to look back down at his lost limb. He was staring fiercely at the trees in front of them, his eyes still swollen from former tears.

Harry sighed and followed his friend's gaze. It was difficult to look at the redhead's broken form. "We'll find a way to fix it."

"You don't know that."

Harry didn't reply. Honesty and bluntness; that was the way it had always been since fourth year. No need to repeat the mistakes of the past, even if the truth could hurt.

"I'm of no use to you now," Ron said gruffly, "Without my wand… I…. I'm worthless."

Harry's heart wrenched in his chest and he spun on his best friend, grabbing both of his shoulders roughly and ignoring the wince from his companion as he touched his left arm. It wasn't a wince of pain, but shame. "Don't you dare say that," Harry growled. "You will never, ever be worthless. I wouldn't be where I am without you, and I won't let you give up now. I'm serious, Ron." Harry waited until Ron's eyes floated back up to meet his own before he continued. "I don't give a shit about this." He looked at Ron's right arm pointedly. Ron hung his head. "I will do everything I can to find a way to fix it, and so will Hermione, but it doesn't change a damn thing. The wand doesn't make the wizard, Ron. You are still you, and nothing changes that. Got it?"

Ron nodded lamely. "I just… how can I possibly help—?"

"We'll figure it out," Harry said firmly. "Trust me."

Ron's eyes met his once more. They studied him for a second, as if weighing the chances of the promise. His trust for Harry won out, and he smiled softly, weakly.

Harry squeezed Ron's left shoulder, not wanting to add insult to injury, most literally, and sat back, looking to the forest again.

"How's your face?" Ron asked.

Harry grunted. "Hurts like hell. The pain potions won't work. Did Hermione tell you that it's from the horcrux?"

"Yeah. Isn't there some way to heal it?"

"I don't know, honestly," Harry replied, leaning forward on his knees and adjusting the bandages a bit. They were too tight. "I think it's like Bill. Remember when Greyback got to him? Madame Pomphrey couldn't heal that right off."

"Yeah, I remember," Ron answered thickly, "Of course I remember." He stopped for a moment, thoughtful. "We can't go further until your face gets fixed. We have to go to somebody. They might be able to help me too…"

Harry frowned. "I can't think of anyone to go to. If we go to Saint Mungo's, the Death Eaters and half the wizarding world will know exactly where we are and what our status is. If we go to the Burrow, everyone will freak out and lock us in broom cupboards."

"We could go to Hogwarts," Ron suggested.

"McGonnagal would be on our asses in a second," Harry countered. "Besides, don't you think she wants to know where half the 7th year population is?"

"They're not all 7th years," Ron mumbled.

"That's not the point and you know it," Harry retorted.

They sat in silence. A few shouts were heard from the house, then some nervous laughter. Harry didn't care to investigate.

"I know this is going to sound strange," the green-eyed teen said slowly, leaning back on his palms. "But I don't think my face is a priority right now. I can deal with the pain. I want to find the next horcrux."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, turning a confused countenance upon his friend. "Are you crazy? Harry, I know the horcruxes are important, but you can't go hunt for them like this!"

"Ron," Harry said seriously, "My injuries aren't anywhere near fatal and they don't restrict me from movement. The horcruxes are the most important thing. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to get them. We can't sit around and act like we have all the time in the world. Not anymore. It's time we stop letting the bumps in the road throw us off completely."

Ron studied him for a second and Harry bit his lip. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing in the world to go off, guns blazing, when his face was torn up the way it was, but somehow he felt that he had to. He had to destroy these things once and for all. He had to destroy….him. Everything had gone too far. It was too much. Harry couldn't betray his friends like this anymore. He couldn't betray Dumbledore.

He had a mission, and he was supposed to complete it; not run into the arms of the enemy because it was, strangely, easier. He shook his head at his own thoughts and looked at Ron expectantly. He felt like he had to have permission from him. It would seem more right if Ron agreed, Harry concluded. He needed someone to agree with him, tell him he was right, tell him they needed to act… that this would work out.

"You're right."

Harry's heart sunk. Why did he feel disappointed? This was the answer he had wanted. Or was it? Had he wanted Ron to agree… or to stop him?

Ron looked at him, a newly gained maturity glowing on his saddened face. "We can't keep stalling. You're so strong, Harry. Even with your face shredded up, you still don't want to stop. I want to be like that." He gripped the stump of his right arm tightly and his face reddened. "I won't let this get in the way. I'm going to be strong like you, but I think that means that I'm not supposed to go with you."  
Harry started, his heart skipping a beat. No, he didn't want this. This was exactly what he didn't want. He _needed_ Ron. "What are you talking about? You have to come!"

Ron shook his head solemnly, a bittersweet smile on his face. "No, that's just it. My arm is a sign that I'm holding you back. I've always relied on you. I've stood in your shadow and waited for you to change everything and save the world, but I've never stood on my own and tried to really help. You've had to protect me—you know, take care of me and worry about me—and I need to stop making you do that, mate. I lost this arm to get the point across to me. I can't rely on you. I have to learn how to rely on myself."

"You're not a burden!" Harry cried. "Please, Ron, don't do this!"

Ron smiled and a lone tear streaked down his cheek. He lifted his remaining hand to wipe it away. "I'm not good for combat anymore. I can't help on the front lines and you bloody well know it."

Harry didn't reply, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curled into a sad, lonely frown.

"But I can help in other ways," Ron continued, tilting his head as he spoke. "Hermione told me about Snape and Malfoy. If they really are on our side… then maybe I could work with them. I hate the bastards, but they're bloody resourceful. I bet they need all the help they can get. Having an outsider who isn't a Death Eater as an informant would be good for them. I think I'll go find them."

"They probably already have informants, Ron!" Harry replied, throwing his arms out and gesturing around him wildly. "Why the hell would you go risk your neck like that? We're not a part of their plans!"

"You know better than that," Ron said softly. Harry stilled. "If you haven't forgotten, Lucius Malfoy had one of the horcruxes. He might know where the others are. I could get information from him. He and Snape probably know a lot of Voldemort's plans too. I could report back to you. This could really help you defeat Voldemort, Harry."

"I don't care!" Harry spat.

Ron recoiled. "What do you mean, you don't care? You don't care if we win this war, then? Don't give up on us now… we've come too far."

"I'm not giving up," Harry said softly, slumping over with his head in his hands. "I just don't want to lose you. I've never been without you through this whole thing, Ron. I can't do it."

"Then all the better that I go."

Harry looked up, confused. Ron's eyes were locked to his. He'd never seen him so serious.

"You need to learn that you can do this," Ron said, "You've never given yourself any credit. You haven't done anything because of me. It was all your strength, your ability. Have more faith in yourself, Harry. I'm not leaving you. I just won't be in the next room. I'll still be there for you, helping you. Just not the way you're used to. You'll be strong just like you always are. I know you will."

Harry turned his good eye away to stare at the trees. Snow began to fall. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You will soon enough," Ron responded. "Everyone else knows you can. And it's true. Besides, you're Harry Potter," he added with a chuckle. "Harry Potter can do anything."

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Voldemort sat elegantly in his chair at the head of the table, waiting patiently as the Death Eaters he had called came to join him. His faithful familiar, Nagini, slithered around his legs with an impatient hiss.

"**Master," **she whined**, "Why must you have these people assist you? You could do this on your own much more efficiently."**

"**Unfortunately, my dear Nagini," **Tom replied, turning a few heads at the hissing of Parseltongue**. "Efficiency is not my goal at the moment. You must be protected at all costs. And I must go away for a time. Potter will be on the move very soon."**

"**I can take care of myself,"** Nagini retorted defensively. **"Besides, if the Potter boy comes to destroy me, I will kill him." **

"**No, you will not**," the Dark Lord replied placidly, "**I will be the one to kill the boy. He is mine**."

Nagini did not reply, settling around Tom's ankles in a heated annoyance. She knew better than to disobey her master, even if his orders were less than satisfying. She did not understand his plans, and he refused to explain his motive to her. However, she understood his desire to protect her. It was not out of love or sentimentality, but out of necessity. She was a horcrux.

The Dark lord did not believe that Harry knew about his horcruxes. However, he told Nagini that she still might be a target simply because she was his familiar. If Potter were to inadvertently destroy one of his horcruxes, that would spell serious trouble for Voldemort. Therefore, he had called together a group of dunderheaded, but powerful Death Eaters to keep watch over the giant snake. They were to protect her at all costs. And she was not to leave the room in which they were to keep her.

It was obvious that Voldemort knew more than a simple plan to destroy a familiar.

He knew of a plan to destroy a horcrux.

And Nagini was less than pleased.

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Harry sat uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair of the kitchen, his breathe hitching every so often as he spoke, explaining the horcruxes to the group around him. He and Hermione had discussed the possibility of telling Dumbledore's Army at length, but it had never seemed like they would be forced to give out the information. Now, with Ron's arm gone and Harry's wounds, they needed all the help they could get.

Telling them was no longer a choice, but a necessity.

He explained as much as he thought necessary; what the horcruxes were, the ones they had already destroyed, and what they thought the other ones were. He also told them of his plan to seek out the next one as soon as possible… and Ron's plan of leaving.

The group stood around silently when he finished, and Harry watched them with a morbid realization of their innocence. They were all so inexperienced and young. He was the same age as them, yet he felt completely separate. He had been through so much more than them, along with Ron and Hermione.

He felt a drenching guilt soak his stomach and he looked at the floor. It wasn't fair of him to drag these people into this. It was selfish of him to ask them to help find the horcruxes. What if more people died? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if someone from Dumbledore's Army got killed. It would be all his fault.

"So…" Harry looked up to see Neville Longbottom scratching his head in thought. The group turned to the mousy wizard. "If we destroy these… horcruxes, then Voldemort will die?"

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. He just won't be able to reincarnate again. If we kill him…" Harry swallowed at saying that. His stomach twisted a little. "If we kill him while the horcruxes are still intact, he will just come back from one of them and this will start all over again. But if we destroy them and then do it…"

"Then he won't be able to come back," George Weasley finished, smirking. "Right then. I'm with you, Harry."

"And you know I've got to go wherever this handsome man is going," Fred said with a grin, moving to stand next to his brother. "So I'm there."

"Me too," Neville and Ginny said in unison, stepping forward.

One by one, the whole room followed, and Harry felt his heart sink lower and lower into his chest. A lump rose in his throat and he tried to push it down, a feeling of guilt and dread overwhelming his senses. For the first time that day, he was grateful for the bandages covering his face, for they hid his expression.

"We're with you to the end, Harry," Neville said loyally, puffing out his chest a bit.

Harry nodded slightly, looking up at his fellow Gryffindor with expressionless eyes. He speech was caught, as if tied down with chains, and his jaw was latched shut. The loyalty displayed, the bravery… naivety… it was too much for him to digest. He felt scared and comforted all at once, and though the fear threatened to jump out and forbid them to come, he knew they would not listen anyway, so he nodded once more and forced throaty words to come out, sounding like a whisper in the heavy breathing of the people around him.

"Thank you."

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Tom shifted his weight from foot to foot, testing out the density of the snow below him. Red eyes scanned his surroundings, slow and calculating. He smirked, watching as people walked by him without even the slightest acknowledgement of his presence. His invisibility charms had done him well before, and this time was no different. He walked slowly down the cold street, his gait long and quick. A young man ran out in front of him, and for a moment his breath hitched as he caught a glimpse of messy hair and glasses, but after a moment's recognition, he realized that it was not the person whom he had mistaken. It was just another street rat of London.

Frowning to himself, he continued to walk on, glancing every now and then for a familiar face. When he finally saw the person he was looking for, he had been walking for twenty minutes over the icy streets of the downtown. Muggles were everywhere. He felt out of place and rather annoyed, so it was a small relief to see someone of pureblood stature.

He tapped the man on the shoulder as he passed and walked a few steps away, stopping and waiting. The man stood still, acting as if nothing had happened. He stood this way for five, maybe ten, minutes before he finally began walking down the sidewalk, eyes staring straight ahead.

Tom followed a good few yards away, his noseless face watching the man in front of him with a bored disinterest. He just wanted to get this over with. Once he had he potion, he would no longer have to worry about the protection of his horcruxes.

With the potion, he could take care of them himself.

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Ron wiggled a bit on Harry's bed, still getting used to the new method of balance he had adopted. Having lost almost an entire appendage, his step was set off, and he found himself inadvertently swaying or trying to use something that wasn't there.

Next to him sat Hermione and Harry, whose head was resting against the headboard, his visible eye half-lidded. It was obvious he was in pain.

Luna, Draco, Neville, and Ginny stood around them, looking at the trio with anticipation.

"Draco," Harry said gruffly. The blonde looked at him. "You should go with Ron. You know your father and Snape best, and you'll have easier access to them anyway."  
"But Harry…" Ron interjected, looking extremely displeased. Draco's expression was no better.

"Rivalries are in the past, Ron," Harry said sternly, his eyes blinking slowly. He was beginning to feel a bit dizzy, the pain of his cuts buzzing over his face. "He's the best one to take you."

Ron sighed and he and Draco looked at one another in forced acceptance. Luna looked back and forth between both boys, and Harry heard her idea before it left her lips. "I could go with them too, you know," she said.

Harry stared at her for a moment. Before he could reply, she spoke again.  
"I know Mister Snape rather well, actually," Luna said airily, smiling. "I've spoken to him since the beginning of the year."

Neville and Ginny turned to her, jaws hanging open. "You what?!" Ginny cried.

"Don't act so surprised," she said sweetly, "He is a good guy, after all. He tells very funny jokes too." She pointed a finger into the air as if she was stating the day's weather.

The other occupants of the room fell silent, mirrored expressions of disbelief on their countenances. Snape told jokes?

"Alright then," Harry said, his eye twitching a bit. "Luna, Ron, and Draco, you three will find Snape and Mr. Malfoy. Take a communication mirror with you so we can contact each other that way."

All eyes were turned avidly upon him as he stepped into the shoes of the leader once more.

"Ginny," the emerald eyed teen continued, turning to the overly freckled girl. "You and Hermione, along with some of the others, will stay with me. We'll go search for the horcruxes. Neville, you need to lead everyone else. Take them to the Burrow and find Mad-Eye and Remus. You guys need to get ready for what happens when the horcruxes are destroyed."

That last sentence hung in the air ominously. Yet, even with its foreboding, it held promise. Harry hadn't said "if", he had said "when". This small thing gave the others confidence.

This gave them hope.

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Severus sifted through a few papers, his dark eyes scanning their contents tiredly. He lifted a slender hand and tucked his raven hair behind his ear. Lucius sat across the room from him in a mirrored silence, a huge book laid open on the desk in front of him, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and blonde hair cascading over his shoulder.

Both of them looked up as they heard the front door open and close. Quickly, the stood and sat their papers aside, dashing quickly through the passageway and closing the bookcase behind them. Lucius walked ahead, starting down the hall. Severus waited for him upstairs, listening from the top of the staircase.

Instead of hearing Lucius speak a greeting to Narcissa, he heard the deep tenor of his friend's voice jump into a surprised and angry tone as he shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

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Draco stared at his feet, red-faced with shame as his father stared at him in anger. Ron cowered behind him, still unused to the fact that Lucius meant him no harm. Luna however, was swinging her hips happily, a smile spread across her pale face as she danced to a nonexistent tune.

"Father, let me explain," Draco started.

"Explain? Explain what, Draco?" Lucius hissed. "I told you to leave! If the Dark Lord finds you here, he will kill you, do you understand me?! I'm about to take care of that for him, if you can so easily disobey me!"

Draco hung his head and Luna spoke for him.  
"Excuse me, Mister Malfoy," she said gaily, "But we've decided to come here and help you. You see, since Ron lost his arm, he can't exactly fight Death Eaters anymore, no offence," she added as Lucius's eyes widened, "So we've come here to gather inside information for Harry and the others. Surely you have information?" She shamelessly stared Lucius straight in the eye, completely careless about any sort of tact.

The elder Malfoy thought back to the room he had been in just moments ago. He frowned. "You are too young to be a part of this," he said, finally, looking at each of them in turn. "All of you. This is no place for children."

Ron snorted defensively.

"I beg your pardon," Luna said, her lips pouted and eyebrows raised in a look of innocence. "But I do believe we are as much of a part of this as you or anyone else. After all, Ron and I have been right next to Harry practically this whole time. And your son, I do believe, has been around enough of Voldemort to have experience. Do you really think we don't have a right to be here?"

Ron and Draco surveyed the quirky blonde with equal looks of curiosity and surprise. Who knew she could sound somewhat serious?

Lucius's frown deepened and he held back his comments as Severus stepped up beside him. Turning to his old friend, he gave him a questioning look. The dark-haired man looked pensive as he looked upon his former students. He frowned, then sighed, and looked at Lucius. "The girl has got a valid point, Lucius," he said slowly.  
"You can't be serious," Lucius retorted, stepping back and gesturing towards the teens. "We cannot allow them to put themselves in such danger!"

Ron eyed Lucius strangely. He was worried about their safety? The thought of Lucius Malfoy caring anything about him made him a bit nauseous. The thought was entirely alien. Yet here the man was, telling them to leave because he didn't want them to get hurt. And here Ron had been thinking that things couldn't possibly get any more incomprehensible.

Snape glanced at the teens, looking them over one by one. "I think that it's their choice," he said. "They would be of a great help to us, and if it is what they wish, who are we to stop them?"

Lucius slumped over a bit, looking defeated. It was a stark contrast to his usual, straight-backed, aristocratic ways. He looked back at the three intruders in his home and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he said, forcing the words through grit teeth. "You may stay."

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They were running, jets of light flying past their heads. There were shouts and screams and spells ricocheting off of the walls of the cavern. Harry's eyes widened as a spell hit his shoulder and he gasped, throwing a stunning spell over his shoulder. His friends around him, battered and wounded as he, were running alongside him.

They had come so far! Harry felt a tear burn its way out of his good eye. He knew he shouldn't have taken them with him. Now another one was dead.

And they hadn't even found a horcrux.

The sounds of apparition echoed against the stone and Harry new that they were leaving. Making to follow suit, he concentrated on disapparating. He had to get somewhere safe.

A spell hit him in the back of the head.

His vision blurred and the bandages around his head hissed as the burned with the spell.

He lost his concentration and he disappeared with a crack.

Everything went black.

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When Harry woke up, the back of his head was throbbing. He shifted his weight and realized he was laying on something soft. He sat up and grunted. Wasn't today the day they were supposed to leave? Why hadn't Hermione gotten him up?

They would be heading to the catacombs soon. He rubbed his uncovered eye and blinked a few times. A feeling of confusion fell over his senses.

This wasn't his room.

His emerald eye darted left and right, scanning his surroundings. This was…

"Awake now?" A crisp voice flooded into his hearing.

Harry swung his head to face Voldemort dizzily. "Wha…?" he couldn't seem to get his question out, so he tried again, licking his chapped lips. "What am I doing here?"

The Dark Lord shrugged his thin shoulders nonchalantly. "I was hoping you could tell me. I found you passed out in the entrance hall," he said, quirking a hairless brow at the young wizard. "I must say, you are visiting my home far too frequently." His tone was amused.

Harry scowled. "How am I supposed to know how I got here?" he growled. "Did you bring me here? I don't want anything to do with you!"

Voldemort's smirk faded a bit. "Mmm," he grunted, "Unfortunately, Potter, you have everything to do with me." Tom pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly over to the bed, leaning over to face Harry, tauntingly close.

Harry shivered as he stared at the noseless face before him. He felt angry. He resisted the urge to lash out and punch the man.

"What happened to your face?" Tom asked suddenly, standing back up and walking to the bedside table. "I'm quite certain I'm not the one who did that to you, whatever this particular ailment may be."

Harry snorted derisively. "You'd be surprised how involved you are with all of my ailments."

This statement caused Tom to frown.

Harry felt a nasty urge to inflict pain arise within his chest. "These wounds are only possible because of you," he spat contemptuously. Tom was eyeing him, looking vaguely interested and somewhat anxious. "It's from the locket."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened a mere fraction. "What locket," he replied, acting ignorant of Harry's speech.

Harry chuckled darkly; bitterly. "Your fucking horcrux, _Tom_."

Voldemort's reaction was too fast an unexpected for Harry to dodge. The man lashed out quickly, his left arm swinging out with a fierce power as the back of his hand connected with Harry's bandaged cheek. Harry cried out and fell sideways onto the bed, his cheek burning with a head-splitting pain. At first he though the pain was the source of the warmth, but then his realized that his bandages were quickly soaking through with blood. One of the gashes must have split open. Harry sobbed in pain and cradled his cheek.

Tom's face was twisted into an animalistic expression of anger. Ignoring the boy's pained sobs, he wrenched him upwards by his torn shirt and shoved him against the wall with one arm. There skin touched, but Voldemort was to furious to care as the change swept over him.

"MY, fucking horcrux?" he snarled, pulling Harry back and shoving him into the wall again. Potter's entire left cheek was a sea of red now, the bandages completely soaked through. He eyes were shut tightly. Blood began to drip through to the floor.

Enraged, Tom thoughtlessly pulled out his wand and pointed it directly at Harry's face. Baring his teeth, his dark eyes narrowed and he flicked his wand, banishing the bandages as blood fell onto his sleeve and wrist.

Another pained sob from Harry.

A widening of eyes and hitching of breath.

As Tom stared at Harry's massacred face, he let his hand loosen a little on the boy's shirt, the back of his fingers sliding along Harry's bare chest. Blood slid down the slender neck and onto Tom's fingers. He felt disgusted with himself.

Harry's mouth contorted into a frown, his eyes still closed, and tears began to spill from beneath his eyelids as his jaw trembled, his chest heaving. From his left eye to his jaw ran a long tear in his flesh. That was the one that had split open. His skin was red with thick blood. Another slash crossed his right cheekbone and another at the bottom of his jaw, near the jugular vein. Cuts and lacerations littered his forehead above his right eye and his cheek and ear.

It was horrendous.

Grinding his teeth together, Tom pushed Harry again, this time with no malice. He fell to his knees, his hand hooked in the collar of Harry's shirt and long fingers splayed over the teen's pale skin. His forehead fell against Harry's stomach and he closed his eyes tightly, his free hand reached up and fisting itself into the blood-soaked shirt shirt.

Above him, Harry silently cried, his crystalline tears falling into Tom's dark hair.

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**Don't let this last scene distract you, guys. I've left loads of hints in the beginning of the last scene and the one before it. Things are about to get really, really interesting.**

**And yes, Harry is really at Voldemort's manor. **

**But how he got there, nobunny knows. :P**

**I hope you guys liked it!**

**I'm really setting up for some huge stuff. I want to see how many of you can catch onto what's coming.**

**I wish I knew how to quit you. 8)**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	19. Loss

**Tainted Visions: -glomp- omg thank you:-3 I'm so happy I could inspire you. :D**

**Anomen: ……………………………O.O**

**A/N: Someone said to me that they thought Hermione is too smart in this story. Here's my explanation: for one thing, Hermione always has been brilliant, especially in the last book. Also, if you notice, I make sure to almost always have her reading a book to find out the stuff she knows. She doesn't just know it right off the bat. She has to go through paper after paper and book after book to find it. Don't be hatin on Hermy! Without her, Harry and Ron'd be dead already. :P**

**A/N2: There are a lot of complicated things explained in this chapter, so you need to pay attention! And there is HUGE foreshadowing. mwahaha**

** A/N 3: I think this was one of the hardest chapters I've ever written.  
**

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_Border line,  
Dead inside.  
I don't mind,  
Falling to pieces.  
Count me in, violent  
Let's begin, feeding the sickness.  
How do I simplify,  
Dislocate - the enemy's on the way._

_Show me what it's like  
To dream in black and white,  
So I can leave this world tonight._

_Full of fear,  
Ever clear.  
I'll be here,  
Fighting forever.  
Curious,  
Venomous,  
You'll find me  
Climbing to heaven.  
Never mind,  
Turn back time.  
You'll be fine - I will get left behind._

_Holding on too tight.  
Breathe the breath of life,  
So I can leave this world behind._

_It only hurts just once.  
They're only broken bones.  
Hide the hate inside._

_Forever ... one  
I'll be fine_

_Holding on too tight.  
Breathe the breath of life,  
So I can leave this world behind._

-Breaking Benjamin – Unknown Soldier

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 19- Loss

Tom slowly, cautiously, applied the solvent to Harry's healed skin, his free hand resting on the boy's wrist so they wouldn't lose contact. Harry's eyes were averted, staring fervently at the side table next to the chair he was sitting in.

He was shaking.

Voldemort ignored it.

Closing the lid on the paste-like potion, Riddle sat it aside, his hands never leaving its resting spot on Harry's wrist. Shoving Harry's arm away pointedly, he stood and turned away from the teen as he changed back to his snake-like form, his arms crossed.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"What, you want me to hold your hand all day?" Tom retorted sarcastically, peering back over his shoulder.

Harry frowned, his eyes still fixed on the bedside table. "No," he stated simply, waiting a few seconds before he continued, as if he had no concept of time. "Why did you heal me?"

Voldemort nodded once, sighing and turning away again. "When you get that injured, I'd like to do it personally, Potter." He walked to the other side of the room and summoned the jar of solvent, placing it in the open drawer of his desk.

Harry didn't bring up the fact that his injuries had been inflicted, however indirectly, by Tom. "I don't buy it," he replied, finally turning his eyes to the other man. "You should be thrilled that I was so injured."

Tom looked at him, expressionless, and stared into his eyes darkly.

Harry's frown grew deeper and he felt the angering thrill of confusion rush through him. "What the hell is this?" he practically spat the question, as if venom would get his point across more easily. His hand swung up from the arm of the chair and he gestured sharply between the two of them. "You—me. What is this?"

Harry stared at Tom expectantly, waiting for the man to explain the situation to him.

Tom merely stared at him.

Harry bit his lip and stood from the chair, his shoulders tensed up with irritation. "Answer me!" he bellowed. Still, the empty stare continued.

Harry's hands balled into fists and he glared at Voldemort with a spiteful contempt. "Is this just another way for you to torture me? Another way for you to make my life as bloody fucking miserable as you possibly can?! Is that it?"

The Dark Lord continued to stare at him silently. He turned around, breaking the gaze, and closed his desk drawer. Then, he turned, and ever so slowly, he walked over to Harry; sauntering lazily across the room.

Harry winced as the man took his chin in a firm grip, only growing more irritated when the handsome face of Tom Riddle stood before him.

Eyes dull and seemingly uninterested, Tom tilted Harry's face up towards his and opened his mouth to speak, his words coming out in a barely audible whisper. "I don't know," he said, "Does this torture you?"

He leaned forward, painfully slow, and stared into Harry's eyes as he kissed him; the softness of the kiss almost to the point of tenderness, but with a hint of dominance and arrogance.

Harry stared back, unable to move. This was the first time he had truly allowed himself to feel Voldemort's lips against his. They were soft, firm… demanding. His mind went numb. Why? Why did he feel this way? Why for him? _Him_… of all people?

...why?

Harry's eyes shut tightly as Tom pulled away, only but an inch away from his face. Tom squeezed his chin a little. "Does this make you miserable?" his purred breathily.

Harry's eyes shut tighter. The Dark Lord didn't move. He was waiting for an answer. An answer Harry didn't want to give.

Tom's fingers were burning into his skin. Harry's hands twitched at his side. They wanted to touch the man before him. They wanted to feel his skin again. Harry's arms tensed as stiff as boards.

"Yes," he grit out through a tightly shut mouth. "It does make me miserable."

Tom was silent. Harry guessed he was listening. He could feel those dark eyes upon him. "It makes me feel so horrible I can't stand it," Harry continued, his voice strained. The fingers loosened around his chin a little, but they didn't leave. His eyes opened and they met immediately with Tom's. "But… I want more of it." A lump rose in his throat. He felted shamed in this admittance, as if it was letting the Dark Lord win. But Tom's expression remained stoic, and Harry found the will to continue. "And damn you for making me want it," he said, his voice growing in strength, "Damn you for everything you've done to me." He was choking on his words now. He slammed a fist half-heartedly into Tom's chest. "Damn you!" He hit his chest with both hands, fisting them into the older man's shirt and shaking him as if trying to knock sense into him. He growled helplessly as the tall stature of the Dark Lord refused to move, no matter how hard he shook, so he dropped his head onto the man's chest, savoring the feel of the heat seeping through the dark fabric.

Tom's hand slid around to the nape of Harry's neck to accommodate the new angle. He looked down at the top of Harry's messy head, determined not to think on the twist in his gut or racing of his pulse. Entwining his fingers into the young wizard's thick hair, he pulled his head back and made Harry face him.

Harry looked up at the dark-haired man before him. Untangling one of his hands from the thick fabric of Tom's shirt, Harry touched Tom's face softly, feeling the rough skin of his jaw.

Riddle leaned forward and captured Harry's lips once more, molding them like clay underneath his own. Harry wrapped his arms around Tom's neck and returned the kiss slowly, like he was trying to remember every moment in fine detail. Voldemort's hand traveled down the boy's back, slipping under his shirt and caressing the soft skin beneath. Deepening the kiss, he began to guide Harry over to the bed, losing himself for a brief moment in intoxication.

He pulled back and laid Harry down on the bed, forcing his breath to steady and heart to move a bit more slowly. He would not lose control. Not again. He would do this on his own terms. He refused to succumb once more to Harry's spell. It was he who was in control, not Harry.

Narrowing his eyes, Tom leaned against the edge of the bed with his knees. His hand slid down to Harry's bare hip underneath the teen's shirt and he bit his neck sharply, causing Potter to gasp.

"Take off your shirt," Tom whispered against the reddened skin. Harry obeyed, laying back down once he had done so. Tom moved onto the bed, straddling Harry's thin waist. Running his hands up the younger wizard's abdomen, he smirked as Harry bit his lip when he brushed over his nipples. Leaning forward, he kissed Harry again, this time much more passionate. They waged war above as Tom removed his own robes, his hands freed for a moment.

When they were both down to mere pants, Harry pulled back, his left hand cupping Tom's cheek. His own face was flushed, his eyes half lidded and lips parted. The one scar that hadn't healed completely streaked below his left eye in a thin line of snow-white flesh; more like an adornment than an imperfection. "I thought you said this wouldn't happen again," he said huskily; his eyes partly confused and mostly gone from lust.

Tom felt his heart twist a bit. For a moment, he questioned himself. What the hell was he doing? The vaguest part of him said that this was a way to control Harry, to show his power; to gain. Yet, there was another part, a much less fervent one, and he mentally lashed out at the thoughts it bore. Those thoughts—those considerations—angered him profusely.

Tom moved so that his lips were a hairsbreadth away from Harry's. "Shut up," he muttered, kissing him again.

Harry thought nothing of the dodge, too lost in the contact to truly care. Tom pressed his lips the juncture of Harry's neck and shoulder, sucking the skin into his mouth and undoubtedly leaving a mark. Harry arched into the touch as slim hands moved over his abdomen, feeling every inch in a slow, mesmerizing pattern.

Slowly, Tom hooked his fingers under Harry's waistband and pulled his trousers off. Harry squirmed at his sudden exposure, Tom's lips momentarily forgotten as he blushed in a belated modesty. For a minute piece of time, he felt shameful, like he was selling himself. A shudder of disgust hit him and his erection began to wilt.

Tom noticed, and he grabbed Harry's chin, forcing the boy to face him. He looked into the other's eyes for a long moment before sliding slowly down his body, eyes locked. Tom broke the stare and placed a soft kiss on Harry's navel. The teen shivered and struggled to stay propped up on his elbows.

The dark haired man placed a myriad of kisses all around Harry's hips before finally coming to a stop at Harry's half-hard cock. Here, Harry turned away, but Tom squeezed his thigh slightly and spoke out in a deep tenor. "I don't think so, Potter. Look at me."

Harry turned, however unwillingly, back to face Tom, his face crimson in embarrassment and lust. When Tom placed his lips to the tip of Harry's manhood, it twitched, hardening fully once more. Tom smirked inwardly, feeling a bit victorious. Harry gripped the bedcovers tightly, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out as Tom ran a slick tongue on the underside of his shaft. Some tears pulled themselves out from behind his shut eyes. When had he shut his eyes?

When Tom wrapped his lips around the head, Harry's couldn't keep it in anymore. He let out a throaty groan, his head lolling back; mouth open in sheer pleasure.

The Dark Lord reveled in the sounds Harry was making. His pants were reaching the point of a painful tightness, but he could deal with that later. This was about gaining Harry's confidence.

Why he wanted to gain that confidence, he was not quite sure, but he did know that Harry Potter's trust could, if anything, come in handy later.

And for some reason… he wanted Harry to squirm like that, to groan out in pleasure because of him. He wanted to see the sheer ecstasy etched onto the boy's porcelain features. He wanted to be the source of that feeling.

It made him feel stronger than anything else.

And so very powerless.

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When Harry awoke from sleep, he found himself alone in the bed again. A sickening rush of regret hit him. How could he have thought Tom would stay? It was just like before.

"Finally. It seems all you do is sleep."

Harry whirled around under the sheets to face Tom, who was sitting across the room in his armchair, looking at him with a nonchalant amusement. For a moment, Harry felt startled. Looking over at him was no longer the Tom of his pleasures, but the Voldemort of his utmost pain. He had to restrain himself from jumping from the bed to grab his wand, feeling torn once more about his decisions.

"Did you really expect me to stay and cuddle with you?" Voldemort inquired, taking a sip of something from a glass.

Harry looked at him questioningly, then paled, and he looked away with a blush. "I wouldn't have wanted you to," he replied. Why did that feel like a lie?

Riddle grunted in acknowledgement, looking thoughtful for a moment. Harry turned back to him, still unable to comprehend any sort of look other than detest upon those snake-like features.

"Get dressed," Tom said suddenly, standing from his chair. Harry's jade eyes followed his every move. "I will be back momentarily. When I come back, I'd like you to tell me why you are here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

Voldemort rolled his scarlet eyes. "I don't believe for a second that you don't know why you came here."

"I really don't," Harry answered, frowning. Something didn't feel right.

"What do you mean, "you really don't"?" Riddle retorted, looking incredulous. "Your little friends must be frantic. You've been here since Thursday."  
Harry froze, a stunned look spreading over his features. "Thursday?" he spluttered. "I don't understand," his eyebrows were knit together in disbelief. "That's not possible. I was just at the ca--… I was just with my friends on Saturday. I went to bed Saturday night and woke up here. How could I have not gotten here until Thursday?"

"You're telling me that you don't remember anything since last Saturday?" Voldemort scowled as he spoke. It always upset him when he did not know what was going on.

Harry looked thunderstruck. "No," he said quietly. "I… I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

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Tom left the room for an hour or so. He sent Wormtail off on a pointless errand to his apothecary and made sure the Death Eaters assigned to Nagini were on task. Then he steeled himself for the upcoming encounter with Harry. He had already made his decision to help resurface the boy's memories, but a part of him still nagged to leave the young wizard in his current state of confusion. Why should he help Harry? Why was he continuously aiding the boy?

He told himself it was because he wanted to be the only one who hurt the teen. He was supposed to be the one to wound him, destroy him, make him suffer. No one else.

Yet, that seemed a fool's argument now. Something had changed between them.

But even so, their venom for one another ran deeper than their newfound liaison. The past still rung out clear in both their minds, a constant reminder that their current ardor was not to last.

Voldemort hated how weak he had become in Harry's presence. It was almost ridiculous, how he bent himself to Harry's every desire. He had healed him, saved him, touched him with nothing less than fondness.

His mind wandered back to the question he had asked… seemingly so long ago…

_What is this spell you have put me under? _

He shook his head harshly at his own thoughts, pulling open the door to his quarters. He would not think about this now. All that mattered was getting Harry's out of his manor. The reasons why could come later.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry looked up as the Dark Lord strode into the room, his wand drawn. Harry stiffened, pulling his robes closer around him. It was a reaction he could not seem to rid himself of when Voldemort entered the room.

"Stand up," Riddle order, gesturing aside and not looking at Harry.

Harry obeyed reluctantly, looking at the reptilian man with a curious suspicion. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

Tom met his gaze. "I assume you've heard of a pensieve?" he inquired. Harry nodded, so he continued. "While a pensieve can make you see selected memories as an outsider, there is a spell that can do much more than that. You can relive any time of your life that you choose. It's also much faster than a pensieve. The recollection lasts mere seconds in the real world, but can last up to days in your mind. It's often used for wizards who have forgotten information. It works well with victims of obliviate."

"Then why have I never heard of it before?" Harry asked, still wary.

"Because it is dark magic, Potter," Voldemort replied, looking as if it were obvious. "The Ministry deems it necessary to not divulge that little secret."

"The ministry uses it?"

"Naturally," Voldemort smirked and spun his wand around his fingers. "Now, do you want me to use it?"

Harry's eyes widened a fraction. "You mean… on me? You want to use that spell on me?"

The Dark Lord rolled blood-red eyes. "No, I want to use it on your shoe," he jeered.

Harry swallowed with difficulty. "Um… I."

Riddle's smirk deepened. Harry didn't trust him in this form. "Look, Potter, you can trust me not to kill you and get your memories back, or you can go back to your friends with the last week forgotten. Either way is fine with me, but I have no desire to stand here all day waiting for your decision. Yes or no, Harry?"

Harry looked up upon hearing his name. That last sentence had been said without the previous cold finality of the rest of the speech. It was softer; less impatient. He frowned and stood, facing the man he had come to loathe more than anything. But now… now that hatred had manifested itself into something much different. An attraction and need lined with poison. A drug that lured his senses into the darkest shadows of misery and pleasure.

Tom must have noticed the change in Harry's eyes—the depth that had suddenly come into them—because he narrowed his eyes and raised his wand.

"Wait," Harry said suddenly. "Before you do, I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Wormtail… Pettigrew, I mean," Harry bit his lip. "You gave him a new hand, right?"

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Why?"

"Ron… he lost his arm," Harry looked away, "Can you… can you tell me the spell you used?"

Voldemort looked at Harry for a moment as if assessing him, his cold eyes narrowed and calculating. "No," he said, finally.

Harry looked back at him, angry. "Why not?!"

"We are not allies," the Dark Lord retorted. "I will not help your friends."

"You help me!"

"A mistake I will not repeat, I assure you," Tom answered, his eyes darkening.

"Please!" Harry cried. "Please… I can't bear to see him like this. Tell me the spell."

"I don't particularly care how you friend suffers, Harry," Voldemort spat. "You don't want to use that spell. It is a dark one. Darker than many you could ever know."

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at Tom for a long while, silent.

Tired of the inspection, Tom flicked his wand, eyes impassive. "Animus Recordatio," he hissed darkly, watching in silence as Harry's eyes lost their shine. The boy gasped and began to fall as his eyes saw something other than the Dark Lord. Voldemort stepped forward swiftly, catching the younger wizard moments before he hit the ground. Their skin did not touch.

Tom could feel Harry's body heat through his robes, but it felt different; surreal. His own skin was still a sickly white; ugly as it ever was. And yet here he was, this close to touching Harry, but he was no different.

He was still Lord Voldemort, the remorseless, vicious man of pain and power.

And as he looked down upon Harry's blank face as the young man recollected occasions which Tom would never know, he realized that he was no different. Harry had not changed him. He had merely created a torturously tantalizing illusion.

It was a promise of something that could never be finalized. No matter how desperately he wanted to keep the flesh that Harry had so often bestowed upon him, he could not. Harry was just a facet of his denial.

None of it was real.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry awoke with a start, shooting up in bed. He was in the cabin in the woods… in his bed…

Confused, he tried to look around, but he couldn't. Soon, he felt his own body move against his will, and he stood and walked to the door.

That was when he remembered. The spell.

That must be why he couldn't move. He was reliving the past, but he was not actually there. The inability to move frightened him, and he began to struggle, trying valiantly to pull himself from the capture within his own former self. Panic clung to him like a thick heat. Claustrophobia brought up by his own flesh and bones make his own useless skin crawl. He watched helplessly as he drew nearer to the bathroom. It was if he was trapped in some cruel, twisted joke. He was in his own body, but it would not move at his command.

In reasoning, he supposed it wouldn't listen to him because he had already commanded it once. He had already woke up at this time and taken a morning trip to the bathroom. How very, very weird.

He felt his arm raise and a voice speak that was surprisingly his own. "Morning Seamus," he said groggily.

"Mornin' Harry!" Finnigan replied, waving back. A few other students nodded at Harry, but there weren't many. Where was everyone?

Harry didn't have time to see who was there and who wasn't before he walked into the bathroom. Harry looked at himself in the mirror, unaware that he was staring at himself twice over. Bandages covered his face, and inner Harry felt a jolt of fear before remembering that those wounds had been healed.

When he was finished with his business, Harry returned to the living room just in time to see Hermione and Ginny walking into the small house from outside. "Good morning," Harry repeated, smiling softly at the two girls. They smiled back; worried, nervous smiles. Harry felt himself frown. "What's wrong?"

Hermione gestured to the papers in her hands. "There's a problem with the catacombs," she said, walking over to the table. Harry and Ginny followed suit, Seamus and Dean not far behind.

The bushy-haired witch laid the papers down on the table, pointing at a letter in scribbled handwriting. It looked like a bunch of lines and dashes, not a single legible word save for "wimblenifter" was scrawled on the page.

"What the bloody hell is this thing?" Harry asked, "You know I'm no good at ancient runes, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not runes. It's a letter from Ron."

"Blimey!" Seamus snorted from behind them. "I knew his writin' was bad, but I had no idea!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a spell," she answered impatiently. "I learned it from Professor McGonnagal back when we needed to write to Sirius. I was going to tell you about it, Harry… but…"

"But Sirius died," Harry finished, his lips pressed tightly together.

Hermione looked sad for a moment. "Anyway," she said softly, "It will only be readable once you say the password. The password is exchanged between two secret keepers. In this case, it's me and Ron. Only he and I can read these letters. To the rest of you, it will always look like this."

"Well how do we know our little brother isn't just writing lover letters to you, then?" came an amused voice from the living room. It sounded like either Fred or George. Harry could never tell. He chuckled, but inside, Harry was not amused. Impatiently, he waited for Hermione to reveal what the letter contained. Maybe this was what ha happened over the last week. He had to know.

They had decided to go to the catacombs on Saturday. The catacombs were an intricate maze of stone tunnels, stretching underground from the Ministry of Magic itself. It was said in the most forbidden books and ignored tabloids that these tunnels ran for miles underneath the whole of London city, containing chambers and caves full of mysteries and hidden dark objects and creatures. Bill Weasley had contacted them on Friday, telling them that he had confirmed Ministry papers by feigning a trip to visit his father's office to retrieve his belongings. The catacomb entrance was blocked off, a class A secret within the Ministry. Not even Scrimgeur, the Minister himself, knew of it.

Harry had considered these tunnels as a possible place for a horcrux, but he did not believe this on a hotheaded hunch this time. He had seen a place very similar to the one described in the books. He had seen it in one of his visions. Rough, cavernous walls of dark, shimmering rock ran for as far as the eye could see. Water dripped from an unknown source above, creating an eerie echo within the dank shadows. Voldemort had visited this place once, along with some of his Death eaters; that pathetic, sniveling mass of flesh called Wormtail included. However, Harry had only seen a glimpse of it before Voldemort felt his presence and pushed him out violently, giving Harry one of the worst headaches in his life.

Needless to say, it was obvious that something was there; but whether or not it was a horcrux, they had no idea.

"Ron says that Snape and Mr. Malfoy have been to the catacombs before," Hermione stated, looking worried. Harry turned to her, both sets of his eyes trained on her, waiting for the next words. "He says they don't want us to go there. In fact, Draco's father strictly forbid it." Someone in the living room snorted disdainfully. "They say that it's guarded by a load of Death Eaters."

"Why would Death Eaters be guarding that place?" Harry inquired. The inner Harry sighed, grateful that the question had been asked.

"It's a hiding place," Hermione responded.  
Harry felt his lips pull into a grin. "Well that's great! If it's one of Voldemort's hiding places, then he's definitely got one there!" he said, growing more excited by the second.  
"It doesn't matter if he's got one there, Harry," Hermione replied, looking cross. "If it has as many Death Eaters as they say it does, we'll never get in or out safely. This is going to be a lot more difficult than we first anticipated."

Harry sighed inwardly. If only they knew. It was so plain that something had gone awry in their plans. How else did he end up miles away from the catacombs, his robes torn to shreds and his memories gone? He felt a twist of fear course through him. He knew something was going to happen, but all he could do was watch as it happened. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't change it. This spell was just too cruel.

"We've managed to get past hordes of Death Eaters before," Harry retorted, somewhat annoyed. "We can't just give up because they're there. We had to expect that this would happen."

Hermione looked lost. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Instead, she stood and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him into her room and closing the door. "I never said we would give up on the horcruxes, Harry," she said softly, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm just… I'm having second thoughts about bringing everyone with us." She looked at the closed door as though she could see through it to the people outside it. "I don't want to put them in this kind of danger. It's not fair—"

"Hermione, they want to be here," Harry said soothingly, noticing how truly fearful the brunette was. "I didn't want them to come any more than you do, but they made their decision; and honestly… it would be a lot of help for them to come along. We sent away the younger ones, Hermione. The people still here are our age. They have just as much of a right to be here as we do."

Hermione looked away, her brown eyes nervous and sad. "I just don't want… to lose anyone else," she sad slowly, her voice thick and emotional. "Harry, we have to do this right this time." She turned back to him, her voice steadied and eyes determined.

Harry swallowed dryly and put a hand on the witch's shoulder, forcing a smile for comfort's sake. "Don't worry," he said. "We will."

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

For three days they planned. Hour after painstaking hour, Hermione dictated their every move through the ominous caverns below London. For countless lectures and constant planning, Harry explained defensive maneuvers against multiple Death Eaters; doing his best to train the unprepared teens. For days, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, and the Weasley twins schemed hundreds of ways to get around the labyrinth more quickly.

And throughout all this time, Harry knew they would fail. But what if they didn't fail? Was Harry getting ahead of himself? He'd let himself be led by the facts before him: he had shown up at Lord Voldemort's manor, his robes torn to shreds and memory gone. It seemed only natural that he assumed the mission had failed.

But what if it hadn't?

What if they _had_ found the horcrux?

Harry strained his empty mind, trying desperately to remember any single thing from the week gone by, but he could not. Not a single image or thought floated to his mind. Even as he stood, watching helplessly from behind the prison of his own eyes, in the time he had lost, he could not remember what came next. He couldn't remember anything.

In some sort of morbid relief, he was glad that he couldn't remember. It would be even more cruel to have to watch as he could do nothing. Nothing was more horrible to know what fate awaited your friends, but you could not save them.

When Wednesday night finally came, Harry had never been more anxious in his life. His mind shivered in nervous anticipation as the group finished their last minute preparations.

They were to leave that night.

Harry was pacing the room, mirroring the emotions of the self he did not know he had inside him.

That's when it hit him. Tom had lied.

This wasn't a memory charm.

This was a time charm.

A wicked understanding hit him hard. He wasn't sitting in Tom's bedroom, recalling what he had already seen. He was not safe in a memory, part of an ethereal dream of the past. He was _in_ the past. An iron grip of fear encircled his heart, and he fought furiously to escape his own body. Screaming out him vain, he fought the shackles of his unresponsive limbs; to no avail.

Sobbing out, he watched as his former self looked over at Ginny and smiled softly. Then, turning to the door, he walked outside to catch a breath of fresh air.

The inner Harry thought fervently. If he was truly here, reliving the actual past, then that meant that he was as real as the body he was in. He was not a helpless memory that no one could see. No, he was as solid as a thought.

A thought…

_Hello?_ Harry whispered, the idea only occurring to him now that he should try to speak.

Harry blinked rapidly and looked around into the forest, then back to the door. Furrowing his brows, he frowned.

_Can you hear me?_ Inner Harry tried again. It wasn't possible. Had he heard himself? Could the Harry of this time actually hear him?

"I…" Harry was frowning deeper now, thoroughly confused. His eyes scanned the forest around him, but the snow gave way to no stranger. "Who are you?" he asked.

_It's me… I mean… you. _The future Harry replied_. I'm from the future—after the catacombs. I've come back to see what happened._

The physical Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he could muster no reply for a good two minutes. "I-I don't understand," he stuttered, still looking around for an intruder.

Inner Harry was thrilled. He was actually talking with himself! Ignoring the implication of insanity that this realization held, he spoke again._I've lost my memory. I can't remember what happened when we went to the catacombs at London. So Tom sent me back—_

"Wait… Tom?!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes widening. Looking back to the door to make sure he was not overheard. "What do you mean _Tom_ sent you?"

_I woke up Thur—…tomorrow in his manor. I don't know how I got there, but he sent me back so I could remember. _

"I don't… I don't understand," Harry responded, starting to get flustered. "Why would he--?"

_It doesn't matter._The inner Harry interrupted._ Not right now, anyway. What matters now is the catacombs. Something obviously didn't go right. Maybe now that I'm here… maybe now I can change things. I can help. _

"If you don't remember anything, how can you help?" Harry asked. He was cut short as the cabin door opened and Hermione stepped out, Dumbledore's Army not far behind.

"Are you ready?" she asked, looking at Harry for the go-ahead.

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Sure," he choked out, his voice so high-pitched he was forced to recall puberty.

Hermione looked at him oddly. "Ok then," she said. "Let's go."

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

They arrived at the telephone booth in London; the secret entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Most of the group had already taken their invisibility potions with strict, overzealous warnings from Hermione to keep moving. Everyone listened without question. They didn't say it, but they did not want to be the next Ron.

Harry and Hermione had taken, in turn, two separate polyjuice potions. Hermione's had been a murky brown; Rufus Scrimgeur. Harry's, however, had been a nearly translucent silver, Lucius Malfoy. Both potions had been supplied by none other than the ex-Potions Master at Hogwarts. Ron had stated in his letter that Lucius wanted nothing to do with the trip to the catacombs, but Snape had agreed to send the potions due to the fact that he knew Harry and Hermione better than his old friend. He was well aware that they would go whether or not the potions were sent, so it was better that they were at least prepared before their trip. No one asked how he had gotten Lucius' or Scrimgeur's hair.

Harry nodded to the empty space behind him, feeling quite awkward as elegant blonde hair fell down his back and a face of sharp features now covered his own. He tried to sneer, readying himself for playing the part of the snobbish man.

_Well this is just bloody weird._ Inner Harry mused quietly.

Harry nodded, most likely looking quite strange as he did so for no apparent reason.

He heard the whispers of silencing charms just moments before a grunt of acknowledgement sounded behind him.

"Why Lucius Malfoy," came the surprised voice of none other than Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Harry turned slowly, looking down at the toad-like woman with hidden surprise. "Dolores," he said tonelessly, finally finding the motive to sneer contemptuously. He hoped the two weren't friends. He knew Malfoy sunk low, but that low?

"Oh, and the Minister!" the squat woman chirped in a falsely sweet voice as she turned her beady eyes to Hermione. "Hello, Dolores," she said, her tone as neutral as Harry's. "What a pleasure."

"A pleasure indeed, Minister!" Umbridge squawked. "I was informed that you were to be in Germany today." Her tiny eyes narrowed. "Change of plans?"

Hermione frowned, finding Umbridge's unpleasant prying rather hard to swallow. "Yes, I'm afraid so," she replied. "Urgent business needs attending to."

Umbridge nodded with a smile, her overly blushed cheeks red in the cold. "I see. Why, may I ask, are you using the common entrance into the Ministry, if it is so urgent, Minister?"

Harry had had quite enough of this questioning, and with a scowl worthy of a true Malfoy, he stepped between Umbridge and Hermione and peered down at her. "The Minister wished to use this… entrance," he tried to sound vaguely disgusted. "To see if it was in working order. He wishes for those who use it to have a pleasant experience, as I'm sure you agree." He quirked a brow to add effect.

Dolores clasps her hands together and nodded, that infuriating smile still plastered on her fake face. "Don't you have… people for this sot of thing?" she inquired sweetly.

"I always find," Hermione said suddenly, moving to face Umbridge once more. "That if you want to find out the true quality of something, you must go yourself."

Umbridge frowned slightly, but caught herself and the smile returned. "Oh… oh yes, of course," she said slowly, looking rather deflated, "What a wonderful perspective."

Hermione nodded and moved to the telephone booth, gesturing to Harry to follow. Together, the three crammed uncomfortably into the small booth and dialed the number. As they began to lower into the Ministry, Umbridge forced her fat body to turn and face Harry. "Why are you accompanying the Minister today, Lucius?" she asked.

Harry frowned and looked down his pointed nose at her with annoyance. "Why are you using the "common entrance" to the Ministry, Dolores?" he retorted snidely.

Umbridge blanched and then scowled, her falsities leaving her face for a moment. Then, she turned around and remained silent for the rest of the trip.

When they finally reached the atrium, Harry and Hermione quickly bid farewell to Umbridge and walked over to the side of the room. The leaned close to each other, pretending to discuss something in detail and nodding to passerby who greeted them. When Harry finally felt the tapping of a small hand against his arm, he leaned in and whispered to Hermione. "Ok, they're here. Let's go."

Hermione nodded in a business-like manner and began walking towards the elevator. Harry followed behind, making sure to stride with a long gait. He had never thought of Lucius as an elegant man before, but as he tried to imitate him, that's what he found himself thinking of.

When they reached the elevator, the entered and waited for bated breath to see if anyone would join them. If someone did, there could be a problem. Those under the invisibility potions would have to constantly move, something they couldn't do if the elevator was crowded. It would risk bumping into someone. However, save for a few flying papers with messages scribed into them, no one else joined them and the doors slid shut.

They set course for the Department of Mysteries and quickly stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Walking swiftly to the edge of the hall. Swinging the door opened, he and Hermione stepped inside the circular entrance room. As soon as the door shut by an invisible hand behind them, the room began to spin. Hermione groaned and pinched the bridge of Scrimgeur's bulbous nose.

"Catacombs!" Harry shouted, trying hard not to fall to dizziness as the walls sped around him. The room halted its movement violently, and Harry felt thrown off balance.

From an unidentifiable place above, a deep voice spoke out a single word:

"Password?"

"Tectum!" Hermione responded, stepping forward a bit.

A harsh grinding of stone on stone filled the room with sound. The walls began to move once more, and Harry feared that they had said the wrong thing. Yet, moments later, the room halted again and a giant stone door appeared before them. They walked forward with caution as the members of the DA dropped their invisibility spells and silencing charms. "Revellium" echoed throughout the room.

Taking a deep breath, Harry placed his hands on the rough stone and pushed.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

They had been walking for more than three hours in the catacombs now, the harsh, gravely stone walls dripping with water and sending echoes through the endless hollows. They had split up into three groups at the beginning, as the tunnels took off in many different directions. Fred and George had gone off on their own, mirrored by Seamus and Dean. Hermione, Ginny, and Harry had taken the route straight forward, their wands poised for anything sudden or unexpected.

Yet, after three hours, they found nothing more than empty caves and endless halls of nothing but unforgiving stone. Frustrated, they stopped for a moment, ;leaning against the walls and breathing heavily in the thick, constricted air.

…_I don't remember this place at all._ Inner Harry sighed, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

Harry frowned. "We've seen nothing here," he said, turning to the two girls. "Not even a lousy Death Eater. We keep going like this and we'll get lost. I've forgotten how many turns we took."

Hermione hung her head and Ginny looked back where they had come from helplessly.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "I really thought…" She trailed off.

"Don't be sorry," Harry replied. "This was a long shot, by all accounts. But I thought it would be here too, I really did."

Hermione looked up at him with watery brown eyes.

Ginny sighed. "How are we going to get out of here?" she asked, sounding worried. "I don't remember us planning for the catacombs to be so big. We could be lost in here for days."

"I left a tracking spell on the door," Hermione replied, her eyes gaining back a bit of her shine as her intelligence triumphed again. "It will lead us right back to where we started."

"I don't feel any wards here," Harry said. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I haven't since we got here, but that can't be possible, can it? I mean, I thought the catacombs were strongly protected."

_Merlin knows why._Inner Harry muttered._ There isn't anything here. _

Hermione nodded. "I haven't either, but perhaps they're non-detectable. I've heard of wards like that before. I don't want to risk apparating out of here. We could splinch, depending on what wards are up."

Harry shrugged. "Fine, let's cast communication spells then and tell the others that we're… Ginny… what's wrong?"

The girl in question had raised her wand suddenly, a fierce look coming over her face. Hermione and Harry raised their wands hesitantly as well, looking back and forth to see what had caused their companion's sudden action. They saw nothing.

"Ginny, I don't see anything," Harry said quietly, his heart starting to pound. "What did you hear?"

Ginny turned to him, her face blank. A hazy shade had come over her eyes, like they were covered in film. Harry heard Hermione gasp behind him and he realized the truth before she spoke it.

"Harry, the Imperius curse!!" the bushy-haired witch cried, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him back just as Ginny sent as flash of red past his head.

Horrified, Harry and Hermione gawked at their friend, wands hanging uselessly in their hands. Ginny cast another curse and the two jumped out of its path. It left a small crater in the rock.  
"Ginny, it's us!" Harry cried, trying to approach the bewitched girl. She shot another spell after him, but his shielding charm was too quick. "Ginny, please!" he tried again.

Hermione grabbed the back of his robes, forcing him from continuing. "She can't hear us Harry! We have to run!"

"No!" Harry shouted, pulling away from Hermione's grasp and trying once more to approach Ginny. "She can get through it! She can fight it!"

"No, Harry!" Hermione shouted as Ginny sent two more spells their way. They hissed through the air like fire. "We will come back for her!" A green jet of light barely missed Harry this time. "HARRY! She's going to kill us!" Hermione screamed.

Harry's mouth hung open. Inside his mind, his own voice was repeating the same thing over and over; _No, not Ginny. Please, not Ginny._

"She'll be fine, Harry!" Hermione repeated, puling at his robes again as Ginny cast another killing curse.

"You don't know that!"

Before they could say more, shouts and flashes of light echoed through the chamber behind them. Simultaneously, the air behind Ginny began to shiver and twist, slowly giving way to a cloaked man—a Death Eater. Before either of them had time to think, the Death Eater and Ginny began casting curse after curse in rapid succession. Hermione and Harry could only take the defensive, afraid of wounding their friend on accident. The shouts grew louder and Harry spared a second to look over his shoulder. Shadows were dancing across the rough stone as colors of every sort flashed amongst them. A battle.

"Hermione, they need us!" Harry yelled, starting the jog backwards as he warded of his opponents' spells.

Hermione followed suit. Soon, they turned around and broke into a run, sprinting down the catacombs as light sped past them. One hit Harry in the shoulder and he hissed in pain. "Ah!"

_You have to get everyone out of here! _Inner Harry shouted, his voice deafening in Harry's ears._ You've got to get them out now! Hurry!  
_"I'm trying!!" Harry yelled as they neared the shouts around the corner.

They spun around the bend in the tunnel, falling to the ground in order to dodge two jets of light. They crashed mid air and set out a fireworks-worthy display of magical sparks.

Harry looked up from the stone ground to see almost ten people, all locked in vicious combat. Three people were on the ground, unmoving. Fred and Dean were spinning around in circles, frantically trying to ward off four Death Eaters as they closed in upon them. George was vainly trying to reach his brother, two Death Eaters in his path. Harry could not see Seamus.

Without thought, Hermione and Harry ran into the fray, jumping in to help their comrades in duel. Hermione sent a well-aimed stunning spell at the closest Death Eater, he grunted loudly and fell to the floor. Just as she spun to take on the next Death Eater, Harry lost all focus, falling to the ground as he got hit two times in the chest with shredding curses. His robes tore open and he sobbed as his skin tore slightly. His face hit the stone and the bandages on his face ripped a bit. A piercing pain shot through his jaw.

Another Death Eater cast a killing curse aimed at Hermione just as Ginny and the culprit of the Imperius curse rounded the corner. Hermione dodged just barely, the green light singing her robes, and the curse hit the Death Eater with Ginny full in the face. As he fell down to the floor, Ginny's eyes began to focus, and she looked around the scene before her with horror.

With no time to contemplate his friend's confusion, Harry rolled over to push himself back up, bumping into one of the three bodies on the floor. With a sickening shot to the gut, he recognized the fallen face. It was Seamus. His eyes were open wide and unblinking, the brown orbs glassy and surreal. Blood trickled from his open mouth. He was dead.

Harry began to shake and he pushed himself up, stumbling as his eyes stayed lock on his fallen classmate's form.

"Harry, look out!" Hermione shrieked, running in front of him just as one of the four remaining Death Eaters shot a spell towards him. With a gasp, Hermione took the spell in the chest, falling over to the floor, unconscious.

An animalistic expression of anger overtook Harry's face, and he turned to the Death Eater who had stunned Hermione. "Avada Kedavra!" he hollered for he second time in his life, the green flash of hatred flying from the end of his wand and into the stomach of the unprepared enemy.

The other three Death Eaters exchanged quick looks and began to fight more ferociously, pushing the group deeper into the catacombs. Harry clung to Hermione's limp body, dragging her as best as he could as they were chased. Her weight was too heavy and it took both his arms, making it impossible to use magic of his own. A yellow spell hit him in the right shoulder and he flew back a good seven feet, losing his grip of Hermione as he did so. He landed at Fred's feet, and he scrambled up as quickly as he had fallen. Groaning with adrenaline and fear, he started to run back to the fallen witch, only to have two pairs of arms grab him and hold him back.

"No!" Harry cried, his face flushing as he struggled to break free. "I won't leave her!" A red streak of light flew past him and he heard Ginny cry out in pain.

"Harry, we'll all die!!" It was the voice of Fred Weasley. It was strained and haggard, nothing like the Fred Harry knew.

They began to slowly drag him back, sending spells back at the Death Eaters as they did. One of the Death Eaters grabbed Hermione by her collar and held her to him, staring mockingly at Harry. Harry's tortured countenance turned to one of fury, and he managed to pull away from Fred for a moment, only to be grabbed more forcefully again. "Harry, don't!"

"You son of a bitch!" Harry screamed, his face contorted with rage. "You fucking bastard! Let her go!!"

The Death Eater merely smiled before apparating away, taking Hermione with him.

"NO!" Harry howled, his voice more powerful that a dragon's roar. "No! Hermione!"

He heard Ginny sob behind him and a similar cry was torn from his own body. The arms that held him shook.

"Let's go!" Dean shouted weakly as the remaining two Death Eaters.

Hesitantly, Harry followed his friends, running through the empty, cavernous halls. That's when it hit him

_He apparated... The Death Eater apparated. _Inner Harry said softly, his voice tainted with thick, pained emotion.

"We can apparate!" Harry yelled over the shouting of spells and echoing footsteps. George looked back at him and nodded in understanding. They sped up their runs, spells whizzing past them.

Harry felt a tear fall from his good eye. Seamus was dead and Hermione was captured. They hadn't even found a horcrux.

Suddenly, a powerful sense of dejavu hit the future Harry's mind just as the sounds of apparating echoed around him.

Harry concentrated on apparating when the spell hit him in the back of the head.

Everything went black.

And then he opened his eyes.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Voldemort started in spite of himself as Harry opened his eyes. He had barely laid the boy down on the bed before he had awoken. He wondered slightly if Harry had figured out that the spell had not been one for memory. It didn't matter.

Harry blinked a few times, adjusting to his surroundings. Quickly, his expression changed and his eyes grew wide, his jaw quivering as he flew up from the bed and ran fro the door. Tom grabbed his bare wrist, jerking the boy to a stop.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asked, blinking uncomfortably as he felt his body change.

When Harry turned to look at him, Tom was forced to do a double take. The teen was stricken, tears spilling from his eyes—a look that had grown far too common on the younger wizard's face. "Hermione!" he croaked. "I have to find her!"

Tom's face turned into a deep frown, but he did not reply, nor did he let go of Harry's wrist.

Harry tried to pull away, sick of people restraining him. "Let me go! I have to save her!" he shouted. "One of your Death Eaters has her! He might kill her!"

"No," Tom sad firmly, tightening his grip.

"What do you mean "no"?" Harry growled pulling angrily at the vice-like grip. "I will not abandon her!"

"Three of my Death Eaters came to me twenty minutes ago, before I came back here," Voldemort said slowly. Harry's eyes had locked to his. "They informed me that they had disposed of two enemy bodies."

Harry began to shake, his face so shocked in misery that even the tears were unable to come any longer. "Don't you dare…" he whispered weakly. "Don't you dare say it…"

Tom's grip tightened impossibly harder. "The Granger girl…"

Harry shook his head defiantly, biting his lower lip hard as his face flushed with emotion. "No…" he gasped. "No… don't…"

Tom sighed.

"She's dead, Harry."

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**OMG, I totally cried. I hated writing that last scene. Absolutely hated it. You can shoot me now. I deserve it… :(**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	20. Prelude

**v-THIS IS A REALLY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE-v**

**I'd like to take this moment to explain some things. Mostly my reasons for the actions, deaths, and attitudes I have made.**

**First, Hermione's death. Her death is very important. I purposely made it less emotional, except for Harry, because I was displaying it from the desensitized point of view. Namely, Voldemort's. Her death will be the catalyst for Harry's realization. **

**Just like someone so smartly pointed out, it will, in some ways, be just like Sirius' and Dumbledore's deaths. They were his mentors; protectors. Harry was beginning to feel safe again in the arms of his friends and Tom. Hermione's death is the one that will show Harry he must rely on his own intelligence. He cannot continuously make problems for himself and hope that the ones he loves can fix them. **

**You will understand more about Hermione's death later, but for now, I will leave you with that and the statement that her death will be his true motivation. The other deaths were casualties that hurt, but it was nothing like the lost of someone he believed to be untouchable.**

**Secondly, I'm killing them off as fast as JKR? Ouch:P Well it is a war, you know.**

**Nextly, Harry's and Tom's dispositions. Tom is confused. Harry is weak. They are starting to get close and question themselves. Where is this going now? The song for this chapter is really specific to how Harry feels about Tom. And it also hints at what is going to happen and how Voldemort is going to handle his newfound emotions. Read the song. Seriously.**

**Harry is being extremely dense and weak. He seems to have forgotten his purpose and what he is really up against. It's almost like he believes he's not up against it anymore. I've done this on purpose. In these next chapters Harry is going to get a real kick of reality, as is Tom. They will be reminded of their roles, and it's going to really change the pace and tone of the story for a while.**

**And for those of you who got comfortable with the "better" side of Voldie-poo, sorry to burst your bubble, but you're about to be extremely disappointed…..after all, he IS the bad guy, you know. **

**I hope you guys enjoy the twists and tension I'm going to add. And for any who are wondering: no, I'm not even close to done with FT. I'd say we're almost two thirds of the way there, though. Almost. **

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

_Hold it together.  
Birds of a feather.  
Nothing but lies and crooked wings.  
I have the answer.  
Spreading the cancer.  
You are the faith inside me.  
No, Don't, leave me to die here.  
Help me survive here, alone.  
Don't Remember!  
Remember!_

Put me to sleep, Evil Angel.  
Open your wings, Evil Angel

I'm a believer.  
Nothing could be worse.  
All these imaginary friends.  
Hiding betrayal.  
Driving the nail.  
Hoping to find a savior.  
No, don't, leave me to die here.  
Help me survive here, alone.  
Don't Surrender!  
Surrender!

Put me to sleep, Evil Angel.  
Open your wings, Evil Angel  
Fly over me, Evil Angel.  
Why can't I breathe, Evil Angel?

Put me to sleep, Evil Angel.  
Open your wings, Evil Angel  
Fly over me, Evil Angel.  
Why can't I breathe, Evil Angel?

_-Breaking Benjamin – Evil Angel_

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Featherlight Taction

Chapter 20- Prelude

Ron Weasley was pacing back and forth across the floor, flexing his newly replaced right arm with something between relief and disappointment. "I can't feel anything," he said softly, wiggling the fake flesh. It looked exactly like a real arm, but it felt nothing like one. No heat emanated from its core; no blood ran through it.

Lucius scowled. "I never told you it would be a real arm, now did I?" he retorted, looking away from the redhead. "I can't exactly grow back arms, Weasley. You should be grateful." He crossed his arms with a look of disdain.

Ron looked up at him, surprised. "No! I am grateful! Really!" He looked back down at his arm. "It's just… it's strange. It's like it's not a part of me. It's attached, but," he wrapped the back of the impassive knuckles against the table next to him in the study. "It's not actually connected, you know?"

Lucius frowned and his left hand twitched. He looked contemplative for a moment, before he looked away and spoke. "You get used to it."

Ron's eyes shot towards the proud man, shocked. "How would you…?"

Lucius rolled his eyes and switched his staff to his right hand, pulling a black glove off his left as he did so. Raising the hand in front of his face, he wriggled his fingers pointedly, eyebrows quirked.

Ron stared at him, dumbfounded. "I had no idea," he said quietly.

"Why would you," Lucius sneered, moving to replace the glove and staff to his proper hand. "I have made many sacrifices in following the Dark Lord, Weasley. More than you know."

Ron sighed and looked at the floor, suddenly feeling ashamed.

"You will get used to it," Lucius repeated.

Before Ron could reply, Luna entered the room and smiled giddily. "Great news!" she said happily.

The two men waited for the news, which did not come. Irritated, Lucius flicked a hand in her direction. "Get on with it, then."

"Oh!" Luna looked surprised. "Ok then! Kingsley Shacklebolt has overthrown Scrimgeur! He's the new Minister of Magic! Isn't that wonderful?"

Ron's placid face broke into a grin. "That's brilliant!" he cheered. Lucius nodded lethargically.

"Yes," Luna agreed, nodding her head owlishly. "Now that we have one of the Order members at the top of the Ministry, we'll be able to round up ranks and infiltrate the Death Eaters much more efficiently. No offense to you, Mister Malfoy." She added as an afterthought, looking innocently over at the blonde.

Lucius sneered. "None taken."

"Blimey, Luna, you sound bloody smart sometimes," Ron said, looking bemused.

"Why thank you!" Luna chirped, smiling brightly.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was once again interrupted as another person entered the room.

"Oy, Malfoy," Ron nodded at Draco and lifted up his new arm with a grin. "Nice, eh?"

"I'd say it was an improvement," Draco said, smirking.

Lucius watched the interaction with distaste, forcing himself to look away as his son and the Weasley boy bantered almost amiably. The three students had become friends, of sorts, over the past few weeks. After hours of endless work and dangerous task, they were bound to have at least accepted an acquaintanceship, but he was not pleased by it. Though he did not hate the teens that now lived in his home, he had no desire for a deeper relationship with them than necessary. His son, it seemed, did not share his firm, pureblood pride.

"Have you heard from Granger?" Draco asked Ron curiously, a hint of impatience in his sharp features. "It's been almost a week. They should have said something by now about the trip to the catacombs. Weren't they supposed to go last Sunday or something? It's Friday now." He placed thin hands on his hips and pouted his lip in a pompously curious manner.

Ron frowned and shook his head. "No… I haven't got anything. Not one lousy letter. I sent them a bit two days ago, but no reply so far. I'm sure it went fine, though. It must have. If something had happened, they would have contacted us, right?"

Lucius frowned. Weasley was a bit naïve. If something had happened, the boy's companions might no be _able_ to contact them, but Lucius said no such thing. Instead, he tapped his staff on the wood floor in contemplation. "Perhaps it is time for you three to go back to your… friends," he said crisply.

The teens looked almost offended.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "But haven't we been a help here? We're the ones who found that apothecary! We're the ones who—"

"Enough, Weasley!" Lucius snapped. "This is my home and I will have the last say of who stays here. My wife will only be able to stay with her parents for so long before she suspects—"

"I'm not the one who can't trust my own wife!" Ron spat. "We have every right to be here! We're on the edge of war and you want us to leave?"

Draco swallowed roughly and looked at his father with a countenance slightly more calm than that of the redhead beside him. "He's right, father. We've done a great deal to help you. The war is on our doorstep. We should be here when—"

"The war has already started, you foolish boy!" Lucius hissed, cutting his hand through the air in a vehement gesture. "What did you three think this was? A game? A preparation? What?!" His grey eyes were narrowed and his austere face scowling. "We are already in a war, and this is no time to be making foolish decisions based on adolescent visions of glory and loyalty. I will not have you in danger any longer!" Lucius caught himself and looked away, scowl still deep in place. Running his hands along the front of his robes, he straightened his back. "You will leave," he said stiffly. "Tonight."

The room was silent for a moment, everyone in their own thoughtful silence. Luna looked surprisingly sedated and Ron looked torn. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a haphazard knocking at the door; banging, more like.

Thrown, Lucius simply stared at the door as if it had begun speaking to him, his thin lips slightly open in surprise. Rolling his eyes at his father, Draco stepped sharply forward and made his way to the door as the loud thumps progressively became more erratic.

"Alright! Alright!" Draco shouted, "For Merlin's-"

"Draco! No!" Lucius yelled at his son suddenly, snapping out of his trance. Draco gave his father an affronted look, but stopped. "You don't know who it could be," Lucius snapped, "Don't be so careless."

The young blonde frowned and his shoulders slumped. Lucius pulled out his wand and slowly advanced on the door, his entire body poised for combat. Grasping the elegant metal handle, he pulled the door open, pointing his wand at the intruder as the occupants of the study stared cluelessly at the open door, the intruder hidden from their view. Lucius' suspicion fell to shock within an instant, his face dropping its caution. Ron's eyes narrowed as he heard and garbled moan and an angry shout.

Lucius stared at the boy in front of him. At first, he'd barely recognized him. Harry's

expression was so torn with depression and tired emotion that he looked more pale and weary than a ghost. Before he could lower his wand, Harry had seen it and let out a strangled moan before yelling and lashing out at him.

"No!" Harry shouted. "No, it's your fault!" He lunged at the tall man, grabbing his robes and shaking him; hitting him on the chest. "You're a Death Eater! It's your fault! It's your fault!" Tears were running down his face and he ignored them with a snarl, continuing to wage war on Lucius's abdomen.

Lucius, now entirely bewildered, simply stared down at the enraged boy, overpowered and uncomprehending of the sheer pain the emanated from him. Seemingly out of nowhere, two long, black-clad arms grabbed the feral teen and pulled him away from Lucius. The boy was literally kicking and screaming. He struggled to break free of Severus' grip, shouting and sobbing. "You're one too, damn you!" Harry roared, attempting to elbow Severus in the gut. The older man was too strong for him, but his normally placid face was both disgusted and worried as he pinned Harry's arms to his sides and tried valiantly to keep the young wizard from hurting himself. "Calm down, Potter," Snape hissed.

"Don't tell me to calm down you bastard!" Harry howled, "You were there, weren't you?! I bet you were one of them!" Harry was lost, insane in his rage. "You just watched didn't you? You just watched as they killed her!! You're not on our side, you're with them! It's your fault! It's… I couldn't save her!" Harry fell limp with those last words, hanging against Severus' chest like a rag-doll as gut-wrenching sobs wracked his body. "I couldn't… it's my fault… she's dead…she's dead…"

Sickened, Severus led the sobbing teen over to the study, where the three ex-students had watched the scene in a horrified silence.

Snape sat Harry on the soft couch and stepped away from him, straightening his back much in the manner of a Malfoy as he flattened his robes and tried to regain some dignity. Harry's body trembled with cries as he curled up into the fetal position on the couch, covering his face with his arms.

No one moved to him.

Ron's heart had gone cold. The blood was drained from his freckled cheeks as he watched his friend with unseeing eyes.

_She's dead… she's dead…_

The only girls who had been with Harry were Hermione and Ginny.

His sister and…

Ron's heart wrenched and his faced twisted into a deeply pained frown and his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. He didn't want to know. It was just too painful to consider either death. He found himself wishing, much to his later guilt, that maybe another one of Dumbledore's Army had returned and been the one to die. Not Ginny. Not Hermione. They couldn't die…

Luna watched Harry with faraway eyes, her soft face devoid of expression as she stood uselessly in the middle of the room. Her jaw was slack and she didn't breathe.

Draco had recoiled in upon himself. He was hunched, his fists clenched as if waiting to be attacked. A grimace laced his stiff features and his grey eyes were narrowed as he stared at the wall.

The sobs penetrated the room's silence.

Still, no one went to Harry.

Severus had his back to the teen on the couch, sharing a glance with Lucius, who looked as appalled as he did horrified. The blonde's face frowned, but his eyes were deep with shock. Severus furrowed his brows and felt an unusual surge of emotion course through him. Fists tightened at his sides.

A cracked voice broke the silence.

"Who?"

Hearts jolted at the interruption and eyes searched the room frantically. Ron's face was red with fear and emotion, but he had managed to restrain his tears.

"Who?" he repeated, his voice breaking.

Harry's sobs stopped, his hands fisting in his hair, flexing in the thick locks as if testing how hard it would be to pull it all out. He curled, if possible, even tighter into himself.

"Harry…" Ron lifted his hand imploringly. "Harry_ please_."

Harry finally lifted his head to face the room. His eyes were swollen and face covered in dried tears. Breaths hitched, hearts waited; the room was quiet once more.

Harry's mouth opened, but to release no sound. He shook his head—a kind of spasmodic jerk—and tried again, still finding himself unable to say the name they all waited for.

"We…" Harry rasped, his throat was raw, "We went. Catacombs…. And so close…" His eyes were wide, as if seeing something no one else could, while he rambled on, his words holding no meaning to any who listened. He shivered. "And then Ginny," Ron felt fear grip him. "She was under the Imperius, but she got out, I think…" Harry continued, a hand finding its way back to his head. "I don't know…I don't know… and then Seamus was dead." Luna gasped, the only sound she had made since Harry's arrival.

Harry blinked a few times and mumbled incoherently for a moment. "And… and running... they had her and I thought she was fine but then he told me later that she wasn't…I thought she was fine. I thought… they told me she would be ok. I didn't want to leave her, I didn't. Hermione was my friend and I left her. I left her and I could have saved her. I could have done something--dammit!" Harry couldn't finish his sentence as a new bout of agonizing guilt overtook him and he buried his head in his hands.

Luna and Draco had turned to Ron, but both turned away as soon as they saw him. They couldn't see him; not like that.

Ron had lost all sense of reality as soon as Harry had stopped speaking. He blinked back a dizzy denial of what he had heard. Then suddenly, without any sort of movement or breath, he faced fell into the image of misery and pain. And for the first time in his life, Ronald Weasley cried uncontrollably. Falling to his knees, Ron slammed open hands into the rug, his mouth open in a silent cry so agonizing that he could barely breathe.

Luna quivered where she stood, a lone tear falling in a glistening trail down her cheek. Slowly, she knelt next to the distraught redhead and pulled his head to her, cradling him to her chest as he cried.

Draco stood back, disconnected and disbelieving. He turned around, tearing his eyes from the scene. He felt like an intruder—like some unwanted spy who had fallen upon a scene he did not wish to see. He took in a shaky breathe and three unsteady steps into the entrance hall. His father stopped him with a palm on his shoulder. They did not look at each other. They simply stood like that, Draco slouched and staring at the floor, and Lucius' head held high and jaw clenched. Their head twitched to the side as they heard the front door open, dull grey eyes watching as Severus stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

The air was made of pain.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Voldemort stood in front of a heavy metal cabinet, his spidery hands resting lightly on the handle as he stared impassively at the cold surface shielding yet another thing to determine his fate. He sighed, blinked quickly over his reptilian eyes, and pulled the door open, a nauseating feeling of thrill and contempt overflowing him.

He had already begun to sweat before he had even opened the container of Hufflepuff's Cup. Scowling, he momentarily considered the possibility of the potion not working. If that was the case, he would kill the apothecary who gave it to him. He was planning on doing it anyway. After all, he'd had to work quite closely with the man in order to get the potion complete. He knew too much; creating an uncomfortable situation that needed to be dealt with.

No matter. He would deal with it later. Right now, he had to test it.

Steadying himself and struggling to keep his already tired breathing steady, he reached towards the golden cup, feeling the heat of the metal emanate from the object as he neared. Not allowing himself to think of the repercussions should the potion fail, sharp finger lashed out at the cup, gripping the handle.

The burning started immediately. It was an immense pain, like his skin was being slowly ripped off of his palm. Tom hissed and was about to succumb to the fury of failure when the burning began to fade. Slowly the heat disappeared, leaving only the cool metal of the handle against the Dark Lord's skin.

He smiled, a horrid display of jagged teeth and wretched mirth. And then, amidst his victory, Harry's face, agonized as he told the boy his friend was dead, appeared before his narrowed eyes. He felt sick.

Gripping the handle of the horcrux tightly, his face contorted into a countenance of disgust and anger. His fingers tightened.

"Just wait Potter," he hissed through clenched teeth as he looked down at the cup in his hand. "I will shatter this bond of trust that you have attached to me in the most wonderful way. And I will kill you. That is a promise. Just wait. You will hate me again."

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry sat up in the large bed that now held him and looked around in a tired confusion. He had passed out soon after the revelation of Hermione's death due to sheer exhaustion of physical and emotional strength. Someone must have brought him up here.

Harry thought back over recent events. His heart clenched painfully, but he no longer had the energy to cry. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to clear his head.

"What happened to your bandages?"

Harry jumped, looking up and around the room. His eyes met with silver ones. Draco was sitting in a large armchair across the room, watching him with a nonchalant disinterest. Harry knew the blonde well enough, though, to see that the young Malfoy's eyes held more than boredom.

"What?" Harry croaked, still not fully awake. His mind had begun to process the question long before he had responded, and panic flooded his chest. He couldn't tell him that they had found a way to heal his face at the cabin. As soon as they met back up with Dumbledore's Army again, that lie would be countered. He most definitely could not tell him that the one and only Lord Voldemort had healed him. Though Draco seemed to know more than he wanted to let on, Harry wasn't about to tell him—

"You'll kill him, won't you?" Draco's voice was uncharacteristically soft. He stared at Harry, eyes unblinking. Harry shivered. Those eyes knew too much. He began to feel sick and angry with himself, but he managed to grit out a reply over the lump in his throat.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, eyes falling away from Draco's, averted towards the wall.

"Voldemort," Draco said lowly, hesitating for a moment as if indecisive about the name choice. "You're going to kill him… right?"

Harry's heart was pounding against his ribcage. He could hear the blood rushing past his ears and he was thrown into a tide of dizziness. He blinked away the shocked look on his face and frowned. He tried to speak, but his mouth didn't seem to open. Why was it so hard to answer? The answer was simple. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Why would he _not_ kill Voldemort? Of course he would. It was his destiny; his fate. Why would Draco doubt him? Why? Why…? Why was it so hard to say?

Emotion swelled in Harry's chest; unrecognizable, tormenting emotion; and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Of course." A tear managed to force its way out of an emerald eye and it trickled traitorously down his pale skin. Why was he crying this time? He didn't know. He had cried so much as of late…

Too much.

"Harry." Draco spoke with a sincerity that Harry had never heard the blonde utter before. His eyes flew to the Slytherin, riveted on him as if drawn by some invisible force. He felt, somehow, like this was a monumental moment; not because Draco had used his name, but because of the emotion and understanding behind the word. It spoke of decision and future. It spoke of honesty.

The muttering of a simple name hit Harry hard. It asked a single, unspoken question:

Are you telling the truth?

The doubt overwhelmed him. It was not doubt of his strength or his intelligence or even his bravery. It was something else entirely. He was scared, but not scared enough to fail. It was not fear of Voldemort that held him in place. It was not fear of death, consequence, or pain. No, it was not hat kind of fear. It was a fear so recent Harry had still not been able to comprehend it.

He couldn't face it. He refused to ask himself the question that Draco threw at his feet.

Could he kill Voldemort?

Yes.

Could he kill Tom?

Harry didn't trust himself to answer that question.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

When Draco finally left the guest room that Harry resided in, Harry tentatively raised his hand to the scar on his forehead, tracing the lighting bolt along his skin. He felt an immense sadness about his past when he did so, the recollection of his parents and how they died refreshing itself in his mind. His fingers drug lazily along his skin, coming to rest on yet another scar that now reflected his trials on his face. He felt the thin line under his eyes and a flash of memory of the exploding horcrux momentarily stunned him. He cupped his cheek and closed his eyes, remembering how it had felt to have Tom heal his face; to have him caressing it as he put healing potion on his wounds.

No, Harry though, shaking his head and recoiling his hand. It had not been a caress. It had just been another way to manipulate him. Voldemort wanted him healed so that he could personally do the damage. That was what the man had said.

Did Harry believe him? He didn't know. His mind was clouded with depression and mixed emotions. A mortifying guilt gnawed at his heart, making his chest ache. He had slept with his worse enemy; kissed him, touched him, and even trusted him, if only a small bit. And what price did he pay now?

Hermione was dead.

Seamus, dead.

Tonks, Mr. Weasley, all dead.

All because of Harry's weakness—his inability to focus on the reality of it all. He had been so caught up in the sensation of an abhorrent lust that he had forgotten his comrades and his purpose.

Harry ground his teeth together in anger with his own foolishness. Had he really considered Tom to be a different person? Had he really believed that Voldemort was some separate evil, tainting the man who had brought him such a twisted pleasure of comfort?

Voldemort was still Voldemort, no matter what face he had. The man was his enemy. He was evil, horrid, and only had bad intentions. He didn't care about Harry. He wanted to kill him.

Harry felt the ache in his heart deepen and for a brief moment, he felt the sudden urge to waste away. For the shortest of seconds, he felt as if life was useless and everything, even breathing, was too painful. He wanted to scream, die, fade into nothingness.

And then, as quickly as it had happened, it faded and left behind the same all-consuming guilt that had become Harry's entire conscience.

Sighing, the young wizard threw aside the satin sheets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Noticing his shoes were gone, he glanced around for his trainers and spotted them at the end of the bed. Sliding them onto his tired feet, he stood and stretched his back.

He walked slowly to the door and pulled it open, glancing into the hallways as if he feared being caught. Seeing no one, he started down the hall in a trance towards where he thought the stairs were. He didn't spare the beauty of the manor a second glance. Polished marble, hand carved oak, shimmering gold; he ignored it all, his mind numb.

He didn't make it far. A small hand touched his arm and Harry barely flinched to acknowledge the contact. He stilled and looked over at Luna, who smiled at him brightly.

Her eyes were unbelievably sad, though, and Harry felt the hate for himself grow a little bit more inside of him. "Harry," Luna said lightly, "You're up. I'm glad."

Harry gave her a weak smile, but didn't reply. He couldn't force himself to speak sincerely at the moment.

Luna's face fell for a moment and Harry feared he should have spoken. He opened his mouth to say something but Luna beat him to it. "Harry, you should talk to Ron," she said, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen the young Ravenclaw.

Harry's jaw muscles jumped and his sage eyes widened fractionally. Ron. Harry couldn't imagine what his best friend must have been going through. "Where is he?" Harry's voice was strong, carrying determination that he didn't know he longer possessed.

Luna's eyes sparkled. "He's in the dungeons. Mister Snape's potions lab," she ignored Harry's odd look and smiled. "Let me show you where it is." Without another word, she began walking down the hall. Harry followed her quietly, his frustration and nervousness mounting by the second.

It seemed like hours to Harry before they finally reached the stony dungeons. Harry shivered, finding the place eerily reminiscent of Hogwarts' dungeons. He wondered offhand if it was done that way on purpose.

Luna stopped and gestured towards a closed door nearby. Harry nodded somewhat grimly and waited until the girl had left the dungeons before he mustered up the courage to open the door.

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Severus slowly chopped the asphodel roots to perfection, his cutting knife moving up and down in a slow, rhythmatic motion that he had perfected from years of dedicated study. Today, however, his mind was not on the potion at hand. He was not carefully calculating the proportion of asphodel root to lavender leaves. Neither was he waiting for the bubbling surface of the puce liquid to hiss in warning of the designated time to add his next ingredient. No, Severus was thinking about none of this. His mind was somewhere else entirely, and the potion would most likely finish in a useless cauldron of steaming liquid; no more worthy for its purpose than he was to make it this day. Arthur Weasley had died. Nymphadora Tonks had died. This was all good and fine to him. Casualties of war, he had told himself. They were adults, they had made their decision to fight. It was bound to happen.

But Seamus Finnigan… and Hermione Granger. They had been his students hardly a year ago. It was different when they died, somehow It had shaken Severus tremendously and he was repulsed by the severity of his emotion. Finnigan's death had rattled his mind at first. A foolish Gryffindor, the boy, just like any other. He had never really known him well, but he knew him enough to have some sort of connection between Professor and student.

Granger, however; he had known her almost as well as Potter. From year one, Granger and Ronald Weasley had been next to Potter's side throughout all of the boy's adventures. She was as much a part of those two boys as their own skin. Severus had always hated Potter and his friends, partly due to cover himself as a spy and partly due to the fact that Harry bore the name and face of his old enemy. Yet, through all of the annoyance and trouble that the trio had ever caused him, he could never envision one of them dying; never.

They were invincible, everlasting, the young, arrogant heroes who would save them all. He had always pictured them at the end of it all—shouting out victoriously with Gryffindor-like grins of hotheaded passion and happiness. It was an enviable vision. Potter, Weasley,….and Granger.

And now that vision would never come to pass.

Hermione Granger was dead. With that thought, Severus' mind raced over every memory he had of the girl, as if trying to grasp the concept that she had once been real. But when he did so, his heart wrenched and he scowled, throwing the chopped asphodel roots into the potion in a worthless attempt to look like he was doing something.

When he heard the door open, behind him in his potions lab, the last person Severus had expected to see when he turned around was Ron Weasley; but that was who stood there, looking utterly haggard and dejected.

Ron shut the door behind him mindlessly and stared at the counter in front of him with wide, heavy eyes.

Severus was at a loss. He was torn between saying something and simply waiting for the teen to realize he had made a wrong turn somewhere and leave. He had always seen how much Weasley cared about Granger. It had been more than a friendly or brother-like affection. He knew how the boy was feeling now. He had been through the same emotion once, long ago. It was a pain that ripped your soul apart from the inside, making you feel like you could never move or smile or love again

Severus didn't think he could deal with that pain again and he prayed silently for Ron to leave. Instead, however, Ron opened his mouth and said in a tired, choked voice. It sounded as if his throat was raw from sobs.

"I figured…" he said slowly, "That no one would look for me here. Lucius wouldn't let me go outside. Luna and Draco won't leave me be. You won't talk to me. Please, let me stay. You won't talk to me and here doesn't remind me… I…"

Ron trailed off and looked around hopelessly like a lost puppy. His eyes were bloodshot and Severus felt a small twinge of pity. Sighing, he turned to a cabinet behind him and reached into its depths, withdrawing a large bottle. Inside it was an amber liquid that sloshed from side to side with his every movement. Conjuring to crystal glasses, Severus placed them on the table in the middle of the room, nodding pointedly at the stool across from his before he sat down.

Ron stared at the firewhiskey as Severus poured a generous amount into each glass, taking a sip as soon as he had sat the bottle back on the table. Slowly, Ron sat down on the empty stool and ran his fingers along the cool crystal of his glass. Severus watched him for a moment before taking another swig from his glass and relishing the feel of the burning liquid.

Sighing with a sincere sort of half smile produced from exhaustion and relief, Ron picked up his glass and took a swallow, swishing the alcohol around in his mouth as if ascertaining its quality before letting it glide down his sore throat.

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Harry slowly pushed open the door to find an odd scene before him. Not only was Ron drinking firewhiskey, but he was drinking it with Snape. Harry didn't seem to find this odd, however, as he watched them. In fact, Ron seemed calmed by the whiskey and for that Harry was grateful to Snape. Perhaps the man was not as much of a git as he had always perceived him to be.

Snape's eyes met with his and Harry nodded, one of the most respectful actions he had ever given the man. Severus looked mildly surprised for a moment before he stood. It wasn't until now that Ron noticed Harry, his head lifting up to look forlornly into his best friend's eyes.

Without a word, Severus slipped past Harry and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Harry," Ron sighed, smiling slightly as his face flooded with redness and his eyes began to water. Groaning, he turned away and stared into his glass. Harry knew he didn't want to show he was crying. Gingerly, the raven-haired teen sat himself in the chair across from Ron. Looking down at the half-full glass of firewhiskey in front of him, he considered finishing it off, even though it had been Snape's. He looked up to see Ron take another swig and close his eyes in satisfaction. Deciding he honestly didn't care if the whiskey in front of him had been bloody Wormtail's, Harry grabbed the glass and downed it in two large swallows.

The were silent for a moment, the only sound the hissing of the cauldron that Severus had long sine forgotten.. It was Ron who spoke.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up in question, waiting for Ron to finish his sentence.

Ron looked indecisive. He fingered his glass unconsciously, biting his lower lip. "Will you… will you tell me everything? Everything that happened? Please, I… I want to know."

Harry stared at Ron for a very, very long time before he answered, weighing his options in his mind. Ron was grieving. Was it best to tell him what had happened? It could only send him into a deeper depression. Then again, telling Ron what had happened might ease his pain somehow—give him some small bit of closure.

Grabbing the firewhiskey, Harry poured some more into both their glasses, watching serenely as the amber liquid fell into the crystal. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and began to tell Ron the story of the catacombs.

"I must have apparated wrong," Harry continued, taking a sip of his drink as Ron listened, his eyes staring blankly at the wall to his side while he rest his head on his hands. "I didn't end up back at the cabin, but… somewhere else." Harry bit his lip, forcing himself to stomach the lie that came next. "I ran into some Death Eaters and they told me that they… had killed Hermione." Harry stumbled at Ron's intake of breath and his heart bet hard against his chest. "I panicked and apparated somewhere and passed out. I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I came here," Harry finished quickly finishing off his whiskey and shoving the glass away

Ron was quiet for a long tie before he spoke. Finally, he smiled, a lone tear falling down his freckled cheek. "She was brave," he said softly.  
Harry nodded. "Yeah."  
"It wasn't your fault Harry," Ron said, looking his friend in the eye. "You did everything you could. Fred was right. If you hadn't left you would have all died."  
Harry frowned and felt himself on the verge of heartbreak. "Ron, I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly.

Ron's blood seemed to run with emotion. His heart was broken. It was so apparent. But he did not blame it on Harry, and Harry couldn't understand why.

Ron's eyes shone and he smiled. "I know," he said, his voice so quiet it could barely be heard. "But it wasn't your fault," he repeated, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

Harry felt his hands shake involuntarily and he shook his head. "No," he muttered, practically choking on palpable emotion. "It is. She jumped in front of me, Ron, me."

"She did that because she loved you," Ron said, his voice still soft. "All of us would have done it for you. It isn't your fault."

Harry looked almost hurt from Ron's words, his emotional green eyes in turmoil and he tried valiantly not to break down. "No, you're wrong," Harry gasped, suddenly feeling angry. "Why the hell are you saying this? Why don't you hate me for this? You should hate me!" he shouted. "She's dead, she's fucking dead! And you… you…"

Ron was off his stool faster than Harry could comprehend that he could move. When a heavy fist connected with the side of his face, his shock was apparent as he fell onto the floor, his stool clattering onto the floor. Ron stood over him, fuming as his face flushed with anger and misery.

"I KNOW SHE'S DEAD!" Ron bellowed. Harry cupped him cheek and refused to face the redhead. "I know! It's all I think about! Every time I breathe, blink, _move—_I see her face! All I can think about how I wasn't there! How scared she must have been!" His voice was a pained cry and he moved forward as if to hit Harry again. Instead, he fell to his knees, wiping tears away with his real hand.

Harry felt his tender cheek. There would be a bruise. He deserved it.

"Why do you want me to hate you so badly?" Ron asked, looking at Harry in confusion. "I don't understand. What have you done that deserves that?"

Harry swallowed dryly and continued to look away from his best friend. "I'm a failure, Ron," Harry moaned. "I can't do it. I just can't. I'm not who everyone wants me to be. I'm not a good person. What I've done…"

"What have you done?" Ron snapped. "Saved our lives? Been a great friend? Protected us? You're our hope, Harry! You give everyone hope. I know you can do this and so does everyone else. We have faith in you."

Grudgingly, Harry turned his head to face the earnest boy in front of him. His heart had sunk to his stomach. Ron's faith was so steadfast and pure; so naïve. He truly believed in Harry. The only problem was that Harry didn't believe in himself. How could he do it now? After everything?

How could he kill Voldemort?

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Tom Riddle felt an immense surge of satisfaction in his own power as he walked away from the room that held the horcrux he had just held moments ago. He smirked maliciously, thinking back to Dumbledore.

"If only that old fool had known how powerful I could truly become," he hissed joyously, his red eyes practically glowing. "I have come back from death, manipulated magic in ways never known, and defied the laws of the darkest magic in existence." He snickered inwardly, but his smirk turned to a grimace. "You were a fool, old man. Love is nothing. Power," his eyes darkened at the word, "Power is everything."

Swinging a cruel gaze towards the hall to his left, he seemed to consider something for a moment before bellowing out: "Wormtail!"

The sniveling lump seemed to come out of nowhere, as if he had just been waiting around the corner until he was beckoned.

"Yes, my Lord?" the man sniffled? Bowing slightly.

"Where is Severus?" Voldemort inquired. "I must speak with him."

Wormtail cringed at the name, looking somewhat disgusted. "I was informed that he was at Lucius Malfoy's home, master," he replied, his large from teeth distracting Tom to the point where he did not even hear what the sniveling man had said.

"What?" the Dark Lord snapped, growing impatient.

"Lucius Malfoy, sir. Snape is with Malfoy."

Riddle's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Hmm…" he sighed, grabbing Wormtail's left arm and viciously stabbing his wand into the man's Dark mark. The tattoo writhed on the sickly skin. "Well I suppose I'll pay them a visit and see what they're up to."

Wormtail's whimpers of pain as he clutched his forearm and hobbled away echoed throughout the corridors.

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Ron held out a hand and helped Harry off the floor, squeezing his hand slightly in comfort. They moved to sit back down at the table, but before they wee able to complete that action, the door to the potions lab slammed open to reveal Severus, grasping his left forearm tightly.

Harry immediately tensed. "He's coming." It wasn't a question, but a statement, as Harry's deep emerald eyes stared at Severus' arm.

"Yes," Severus said, his words a bit tight. "You both need to hide. Lucius has gone to find Draco and Miss Lovegood. Come. Quickly." He stepped out of the doorway and waited for the two boys to follow him before he moved swiftly into the depths of the dungeons.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked unsteadily. Fear nipped at his tone, but Harry felt nothing but a nauseous anxiety twisting in his stomach.

"There's a hidden chamber here," Severus replied shortly, whirling around a corner with immaculate grace. "It is far enough back that the Dark Lord will not likely venture here."

"Not likely?" Ron swallowed and stumbled a bit in his step. "So he could find us?"

Snape stopped mid-step and Ron feared he had angered the man, but when the sallow face turned towards him, it had a surprisingly earnest quality behind its coldness. "If it comes to that, Weasley," he said slowly. "Lucius and I will protect you at all costs. You will not die here. I swear to you." Snape's eyes had taken on an awe-inspiring depth to them as he looked down at the two boys. For a moment, they were both left speechless by him, floored by such a blatant statement of loyalty and comfort.

When Severus decided they had digested his meaning, he gestured towards the stone wall next to him. Pulling out his wand, he slid the tip of the wood over the rough stone in a strange pattern. The stone seemed to flicker and fade like a mirage; and soon enough, it was like the wall had never been there in the first place.

They peered into the hole, seeing nothing but blackness.

"You want us to go in there?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

Severus scowled. "No time to be a priss, potter. Get in. He'll be here any moment."

Somewhat unwillingly, the two boy stepped into the darkness just as the echoes of footsteps resounded in the stone of the halls. Fear gripped them for a single moment before they saw the stiff form of Lucius Malfoy fly around the corner with uncharacteristic haste, followed closely by Draco and Luna.

Draco seemed familiar with the area and Luna didn't looked as if she cared one bit about being crammed into a dark hole in the wall, so once all four ex-students were sitting soundly in the darkness as the wall rebuilt itself beside them, Severus and Lucius ran quickly upstairs.

"I'm not a priss," Harry grumbled to himself, leaning back against what he thought was a wall in the darkness.

"What the bloody hell are you muttering over there, Potter?" Draco's voice retorted back at him from a few feet to his right.

"Snape called me a priss," Harry replied petulantly. "I'm not a priss."

"Yes you are," Draco replied nonchalantly, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep denying it."

Ron chuckled from somewhere in front of Harry and Harry felt mildly embarrassed.

"I don't think you're a priss, Harry," Luna said, her voice creepily close to Harry's left ear. He jumped and cried out, sending the other boys of the room into laughter.

"Bloody hell Luna, don't lean in on people like that!" Harry gasped. "It's not funny!" Harry snapped at the still snickering boys. Still, he couldn't help smile a bit at the fact that Ron was laughing. That was good.

Sighing, he leaned back against the wall and they were all silent for a moment, each wondering what was going on upstairs.

Suddenly, the small room flooded with light and three heads turned accusingly towards Luna, who held her wand up in front of her face, engulfing the room with a pale glow.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I don't particularly like the dark."

Shrugging her companions took the opportunity to look around the tiny enclosure. It was like a large stone box. Nothing, not even dust, resided within it. It was empty and barren. It was a room for one purpose and one purpose only: to hide.

A feeling of claustrophobia set in Harry's skin and he shifted nervously. "Luna, can you turn the light o—"

Voices echoed above them. One of them was cold and high, a voice anyone could recognize in an instant. Voldemort had arrived.

They couldn't make out the words of the three men above them, but they could hear their tones and they relaxed. They all sounded calm and normal. Voldemort didn't know that four teens huddled just below his feet.

All four heads were looking upwards, as if they could stare through the ceiling and watch the scene unfold. There were footsteps and Voldemort snapped at one of the men when they said something. More footsteps.

"They're heading for the dungeons," Draco whispered. "I can tell."

Harry couldn't shake the desire to ask if Draco had been through this before, but he kept quiet and listened intently as footsteps echoed against stone.

Ron's eyes were wide and all their hearts beat in unison as the footsteps neared. They could hear the voices now.

"My Lord, as you know, there is nothing back here but dusty old storage." It was Lucius Malfoy. "Why would such a man as yourself wish to go into the bowels of my humble home?"

"You think I am unfit for your halls, Lucius?" Voldemort whispered dangerously. Harry's heart jolted as the footsteps stopped a few feet away from the wall that held four silent teens.

"Not at all my Lord." A rustle of clothes indicated that Lucius had bowed. "I am merely confused as to why you wish to come here. You are welcome in all areas of my home, my Lord." Only Draco recognized the stiffness in his father's voice as he strained to keep composure in tact.

There was a dangerous moment of silence before Voldemort spoke, his voice low and taunting. "Are you loyal to me, Lucius?"

Lucius answered without hesitation. "Of course, my Lord. I am entirely loyal to you."

"Severus," the Dark Lord's voice was almost light as he spoke the potion master's name. Harry knew something was wrong instantly. "Is Lucius loyal to me?"

For the first time, they heard the deep tenor of Snape's voice infiltrate the silence. "He is as loyal as I, my Lord."

"I see," Tom's voice was faint, a mere whisper in the hall. "You see, Severus, that is what I feared."

Someone's breath hitched in the room. It sounded like Luna.

"I do not understand, my Lord," Severus said cautiously, not yet thrown by Riddle's mental game of tag. At least, not _visibly_ thrown.

"You see, I've been informed that everything from you "spying" for me against the order of the Phoenix," Voldemort said sweetly, his words slithering off his tongue alike a serpent's hiss. "To your murder of the pathetic old man, Dumbledore," Harry's hands clenched at his sides. "Was all just a ruse to keep my trust. Is this true, Severus?"

"Not at all, my Lord," Snape denied, his voice steady. "I am indefinitely loyal to you and have never betrayed you."

"That. Is. A. Lie!" Voldemort hissed venomously, his words flying from his mouth like poison. "Crucio!"

Luna gasped as the screams of the professor sliced through the walls and into their horrified ears.

"Did you think you could lie to me, Severus?!" Voldemort shouted over the agonized screams. "Did you honestly think you could fool me? I am Lord Voldemort, and I can not be lied to! You will pay for betraying me, Severus!"

For the first time that afternoon, Harry felt fear. Luna was crying softly next to him and Snape's anguished shouts resounded again and again against the walls of the dungeons. When they didn't stop after a few minutes, a strange panic overtook Harry. Why wasn't Voldemort releasing the curse? He was going to kill Snape if he kept on like this!

Harry could not stand by and let Snape die, no matter how much he disliked the man. Snape was their comrade and he would not let him die.

"Potter what are you doing?" Draco hissed as Harry stood and drew his wand. The blonde grabbed his sleeve in an effort to stop him, but Harry ignored him. "Reducto!" he shouted. The wall exploded as the spell hit it, sending rock and dust everywhere. Snape had stopped screaming. Voldemort must have been shocked enough to drop the spell.

Harry ran out into the hall, his wand drawn as Voldemort spun around to face the intruders. He faltered for just a moment, his reptilian features looking confused before they feel into an impassive mask that curled slowly into a wicked smile.

"Well, well, well," Tom crooned, pointing his wand at Harry and watching as Draco, Ron, and Luna moved to stand beside him, their wands drawn as well.

Seemingly unperturbed by the number of wands pointed his way, Tom chuckled. "If it isn't the Boy Who Lived," he said, contempt sliding into his tone. "What a pleasant surprise." Harry glared at him. "Tell me, where's that little friend of yours? The one with the bushy hair?" His red eyes gleamed.

Both Ron and Harry cried out in fury, sending spells at the dark wizard who mocked their pain.

Harry's heart throbbed as he tried to make sense of things. "Expelliarmus!" he yelled, only growing more angry as Voldemort flicked the spell away with a twitch of his wrist.

"Potter! Weasley! No!" Lucius was yelling at them as he helped Severus to his feet. "Draco get them out of here!"

Draco looked hesitant, but his father shouted the command again and he grabbed Ron and Harry's arms, pulling at them. "Let's go! You're no match for him, we have to leave!"

As Snape and Lucius drew their wands and prepared for battle, Harry reluctantly let Draco pull him away from the scene, turning around after a moment to follow his peers in a mad sprint away from the bright flashes of spells that now lit up the hall.

Somehow, they got upstairs into the entrance hall and Luna cried out as the floor of the manor shook and she fell. Ron helped her up and looked repeatedly from the front door to the door leading back to the dungeons. His expression was torn, and it was one that every occupant of the room shared.

"We have to get out of here!" Draco shouted above the rumbling of the house. "Come on we've got to get to the apparition wards!"

The four ran out from the house, tripping over their feet as they ran on shaking legs. The doors to the manor flew open and the teens turned around to see Snape and Lucius running towards them. Snape was limping a bit, evidence of blood on his leg, while Lucius merely looked exhausted.

"Why are you still here you fools?!" Severus bellowed just as a jet of red light shot at him, he stumbled on his bad leg and the spell flew over him.

The group huddled together and the sky blackened in an ominous swirl of smoky darkness and spirals of the ashen clouds began to shoot towards the ground.

"He's called the Death Eaters!" Ron choked out, waving his wand around frantically.

All eyes swung to Voldemort, who stood on the front step of Malfoy manor, his tall, thin body stock still as he stared at the two ex-Death Eaters with disgust and fury. The dark tides of the apparating Death Eaters seemed to flock to him, making him look like a cruel, ethereal being. His red eyes were fiery with vengeance as he took a step forward, focused entirely upon the two men before him.

"Did you think you were smart?" he snarled, his words like ice. "Did you really think you could fool _me_?" One would have thought his tone to be incredulous, if not for the sarcasm lining his words. "I will show you what happens to those who betray me!" He looked around at the circle of Death Eaters. The sky was still clouded and gray, even though not a single soul was apparating. A gray shadow covered them all like a looming storm ready to rain blood.

"LET THIS BE AN EXAMPLE!" Voldemort cried out vehemently, waving his arms around to gesture to his followers, "Of what happens to traitors! It seems some of you have forgotten my power! Maybe it is time for a reminder!"

Rain began to fall around them in heavy drops. It slid down the Dark Lord's pale skin like oil. Looking at Severus and Lucius' defiant faces, he sneered. "You will suffer," he spat, raising his hands to the sky. His body grew taut and his face contorted with a deep concentration. His arms jerked downwards in a fluid motion, as if pulling something.

Harry stiffened as he watched the scene before him, mesmerized and horrified at the same time.

The rain began to fall heavily now, a torrential downpour around them that sounded like the march of a million men. Around Voldemort, however, the water began to glow an eerie blue as it twisted out of pattern and flew around his body in a thick whirlpool of moving ice. The light from the water illuminated that grounds for what looked like miles, casting a cold, blue chill over everyone and everything even as the rain continued to fall.

Riddle's face looked strained and vicious as his arms slowly moved forward, the water spinning faster and faster around him as Severus and Lucius watched on uselessly.

And then the water began to form a shape; a shape that grew and transformed until it was almost half the size of the manor.

It was a dragon.

The rippling dragon let out a roar of rage before stretching its monstrous wings and diving with frightening speed towards the two helpless men on the ground.

"Protego! Now!" Harry screamed. With the speed of a fearful adrenaline rush, the four teens sent the protection spells flying towards their mentors, praying that they would be strong enough to hold off the foul, icy beast that dove down to the earth.

Lucius and Severus yelled something before throwing their wands upwards to cast simultaneous shields, the white light around them blinding as the dragon crashed into them.

Icy water fell across the grounds in a tidal wave, hitting the ground with a hiss and shattering like shards of ice all around them. Death Eaters and teens alike threw their arms up to shield there faces from the debris.

And then everything was quiet. And Harry shakily lowered his arms just in time to see a black clad body grab him and apparate away.

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Severus still held Harry when they appeared in the forest of the cabin, afraid the boy would fall if he let go. Even as Lucius appeared with the other teens, Harry continued to shake violently, his eyes wide open in shock. Severus gripped Harry's shoulder tightly, pushing him away and looking him directly in the eyes.

"Potter," he shook him a little when he didn't respond. "Potter!"

Harry's eyes went back into focus and he frowned deeply. "He was so strong. That dragon it was…How?"

Severus sighed. "I don't know how," he said honestly. "And yes, he's powerful—one of the most powerful wizards in history."

"I… I know that," Harry responded, disconnected, "I just never thought…"

"Never thought what?" Snape retorted, letting his hands fall to his sides. "That he would have such terrifying power? That he would be able to summon it at his will? What did you think this was, Potter? If he was any weaker, we would have defeated him by now. It's time you realized what you're up against." He wasn't trying to be cruel; just realistic; and Harry was far too lost in his own thoughts to care anyway.

He opened his mouth to reply. "I—"

"Hello? Who's there?"

The group turned around to look for the owner of the voice. They were so close to the cabin that it was likely a member of Dumbledore's Army, so they did not draw their wands; but whoever they expected to see when they turned around, they most certainly did not expect to see who they did.

They most certainly did not expect to see Hermione Granger.

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**GAHHH. This chapter took forever. It didn't turn out exactly how I thought it was going to, but I like how it turned out. **

**Confused about anything that happened in this chappie? Have some unanswered questions? Still in shock over that last line?**

**Don't worry, it will all be explained in the next chapter.**

**The next chapter will be a return to the past. **

**Where all your questions will be answered……..or… at least **_**most**_** of your questions. :P**

--

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	21. It's 2012 and you're still reading? haha

No, your eyes aren't playing tricks. You're really seeing this. –chuckle-

Today I was looking through a very old email of mine to try and find some old information and I noticed that it had some messages from . Turns out it was the email I used for this account, but what really surprised me was that a lot of the reviews and messages were from _this_ year. Many of them were STILL requesting that I continue Featherlight Taction… which, to be completely honest, was a bit stunning to me.

This story was started in July of 2007. Holy shit, I was _seventeen_ then. I'm twenty-two now and it's surreal to think that something I wrote when I was still in the middle of high school is still read. That's unbelievably surreal. I never lost my passion for writing or my love for Harry Potter, but so many things have happened over the past five years that glancing back on old fics has been the least of my priorities.

I started this story when I was just a high school student living at home with no real responsibilities other than homework. You never really realize what "free time" is until you don't have it anymore. –laugh-

I know that a couple years ago I made a bit of a wavering promise to continue FT. I'm genuinely sorry that I left all of you to be disappointed, but some really difficult things happened soon after I said that I would continue the story and I was forced to put internet life and writing in general on a very far back-burner.

The only reason I've even come here now is because I was so touched that there are _still_ people, after all these years, saying that they love this story and would like to see it continued (Although some of the older fans seem to have accepted the fate of FT). I miss this story sometimes, I do, and I have thought about one day starting it up again, but the biggest issue other than time is… well… my writing.

Like I said, this was written when I was a teenager. Just as nothing about me or my life is similar to back then, neither is my writing. Frankly, I don't have a damn clue if I _could_ continue this anymore. It would be strange to see a story that looks like the second half of it was written by a different person, don't you think? I wouldn't want to ruin the story by making the rest of it be in an entirely different style, for better or for worse.

I don't know, to be honest, but I could use a stress relief right now and revisiting and old story that I really loved might be a good way to get some of that. I won't be a dick and make promises like last time because I don't want to be the reason people are disappointed again, but I will say this:

I'm going to look over the story; read through it again when I have time. _If_ I feel like I can continue it despite how long it's been, I'll give it a shot. It's been so long since I've written in this fandom or even been on this account, but it would be fun to write some Harry Potter again. It really would.

If you guys like the idea, I'll really give it a shot, but I can make no promises about how quickly I'd update, or even if I can.

This is a very tentative hello from a very old friend. I hope you're all doing well. It's been a long time.


	22. Decision officially made

Alright, the decision has been made. My hesitant previous note was received better than I could have expected, and as I read through this story and think back on my plans for it, my inspiration sort of exploded. Amusingly, it actually led to me having a Harry Potter movie marathon when I had time. –laugh-

Now my head is swimming with concepts for this story, so _yes_ **I have decided to revive Featherlight Taction.**

However, there is one really big issue. Massive, actually, and I want to run it by you all before I do anything about it. Especially for the long-time fans (but just as much to you new readers), I feel I owe it to you to make sure that you're all in approval of what I want to do. As much as I write for _me_, I only post what I write for the enjoyment of others. It's because of that, that I think you all have just as much of a say in what I do with the story as I do.

I mentioned before that my writing has drastically changed. Time does that and it's been a lot of time.

I'm honestly ridiculously disappointed with the original Featherlight Taction as I read through it. As much as I would want to _try_ to continue it from where I left off or start with a sequel as one reviewer suggested, I am going to be completely honest with you. I'm not sure I would be at all satisfied with anything I could come up with. To me, it would feel like the whole continuation would be nothing more than damage control.

The idea of FT was good. I like it to this day, but I didn't do nearly as much with it as I could have.

I didn't focus enough on the fact that this takes place during war. I didn't develop relationships other than Tom and Harry's as much as I could have and _should_ have. And, most of all, the relationship with the two main men was not nearly as concrete and complex as I could have written it.

I think it's partially bias towards my old work. To me, anything I wrote in the old days was too flimsy. I never see enough depth when I look at my old stories. Regardless, I would have to essentially set aflame half of my plot ideas because the mistakes I made in FT fucked them over, to put it bluntly.

So, if I really want to give you the story you all deserve after all this time of waiting and the story I'd very much enjoy writing, I am going to throw out the suggestion that I start over. In my opinion, many changes to the story need to be made, both big and small, but I can promise it will still be the same STORY. Just with more meat. I, personally, like meat. It's delicious. Don't you all want some meat?

I'll pause for a moment to see how many of your minds just went deep into the gutter.

….-pauses-

How many? Show of hands.

Alright. So, what's your opinion? Would you all be supportive of starting this story over? If so, I'll start on it right away. I don't want to start writing a whole new FT if you all would be displeased with the thought, but if that's not the case, I really would like to get these ideas out.

Let me know. Hope you're all having a fabulous day or night or whatever the hell time of day it is. Remember to eat your vegetables.

(Also, is anyone else experiencing any user-interactive aspects of having serious loading issues? I have to clear out my cookies every time I want to click a link or it won't load at all.)


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